


Demon Star

by xstarxchaserx



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Therapy Practices, Blood Play, But I wanted the warning to be there just in case, Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Escape to Cuba, Injury Recovery, Knife Play, M/M, Mainly Bottom!Will/Top!Hannibal, Marking, Murder, Poor Negotiations, Possessive Behavior, Post TWOTL, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Switch!Hannibal, Will as a Therapist, switch!Will - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xstarxchaserx/pseuds/xstarxchaserx
Summary: Colloquially known as the Demon Star, Algol is the first and best known eclipsing binary star ever to have been discovered. These two stars orbit around one another, occasionally blinking one or the other out of existence for short periods of time, only to shine bright and steady when they are side by side once again.In which Hannibal and Will find ways to interact with one another that don't involve (much) bloodshed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the world of Hannibal fan fiction. I do hope you enjoy!
> 
> The opening quote is by Robert M. Drake, though I changed the pronouns in it from "she" to "he" to better suit the narrative. He's an amazing poet, and I highly recommend his work.

_“He brought out the storm in people, because he knew wherever there were dark skies and wild winds, lies a truth. A truth that describes how much love one can leave behind the moment they accept all the pain they have lived. And that is all he ever wanted, for everyone around him to embrace their storms and make them fall in love with their own violent winds.”_

_**\- Robert M. Drake** _

His heart, for all that had happened, was calm. It pumped hard but steady, reminding him that somehow, he had survived the day. 

Francis Dolarhyde hadn’t been quite so lucky. 

Will surveyed the scene around them. The ground was slick with blood. The puddles and splashes looked like tar pits, like something long dead and monstrous could claw its way out of the pitch any second to devour them all. 

Which was impossible, of course.

The monsters were already here.

“It really does look black in the moonlight,” he said, because what else _could_ he say? Hannibal helped him to his feet, so close, and Will wished more than anything for the scent of rich aftershave and something smoky that usually followed Hannibal around instead of the metallic tang that filled his nose and mouth. 

_(But that wasn’t quite true._

_He had never found Hannibal more appealing than he did right then, covered in blood and looking at Will like he was something to be cherished.)_

“See?” Hannibal asked, barely above a whisper. “This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.”

And yes, he could see. For once, his eyes were open and unclouded by Jack’s conscience or the restrictions he had put on himself. The chains that held him down had shattered the second he had looked across the paving stones and met Hannibal’s eyes. An eternity stretched before him, and in it, he saw one thing for certain: they would face whatever was coming, together.

“It’s beautiful.”

And then they were falling, falling, falling and the waves were rising to greet them and there was salt water in his lungs and…

Nothing.  
____________________

Then there was pain. Soul consuming, earth shattering pain broken up by the cool relief of a rag being wiped across his forehead. He wanted to drift, wanted to allow himself to sink into the pain because if he hurt, it meant he was alive and if he was alive, it meant Hannibal might be as well.

“I know you’re awake, Will.” 

“Chiyoh,” he said when he cracked his eyes open.

“Good. You recognize me. That’s better than I had feared; you had a concussion. The wounds in both your shoulder and your cheek should be free of infection now, but the stitches will have to stay in for at least a week. Your fever finally broke. You’ll live.”

He closed his eyes again, running his tongue over the stitches in his face, grateful for her detached tone. He had questions, so many questions, but the words for them refused to surface. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answers to be. He remembered what it felt like to let the fortress he had built around himself crumble under the weight of Hannibal’s stare, the slip of the blade through flesh, the blood on his hands and in his mouth and Hannibal standing gorgeous and victorious before him, despite his own injuries. 

He remembered what it was like, at the top of the cliff, to realize that they would end up killing each other eventually, but if he had to choose a time to go, it would have been then. He had never felt more completely himself, Hannibal in his arms, their prey dead. Better to go out on a high note than drag it out further. Besides, some part of him enjoyed the thought that he would have the last word. 

But if he hadn’t made it, if Will was the only survivor… What would he do without him?

“He’ll live.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the relief flooded him. 

_Guess that clears up the confusion._

“Where are we?”

“Don’t you recognize this place?”

He reopened his eyes then and looked around, realizing that the place was familiar. “Doctor Du Maurier’s house. How…?”

“We arrived after the FBI had already stopped by. They believed that one agent was enough to watch the home, but he’s parked down the street. They weren’t watching the back yard. She is the one who patched you both up, after some… persuasion from Hannibal.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two days.”

He reopened his eyes. “Can I see him?”

She searched his face for a moment. “Are you going to try to kill him again?”

“I think we’re past that.”

“In the morning, then. For now, more antibiotics and pain medication. Then sleep. You need it.”

So he slept and dreamt and woke up in the morning with the sun on his face and Hannibal sitting the chair next to his bed. For one second, he was afraid he was still asleep.

“Hannibal?” he asked, trying to reassure himself, with a voice that cracked and rubbed his throat like sandpaper.

“Chiyoh assured me that you weren’t going to try to kill me.”

“She would be correct.”

It was Hannibal’s turn to study his face like Chiyoh had the night before. “Why not?”

There were a dozen ways he could answer that question, but the one that came out of his mouth was as close to the truth as he could get. “I don’t want you to die.”

Hannibal nodded after a moment. “The sentiment is mutual.”

“There is a condition to that, however.”

At this, Hannibal’s gaze sharpened. “Oh?”

“Honesty, Hannibal. No more and no less. No more manipulations. I don’t care how good you think it is for me. It has to stop.”

“And you? Will you stick to this condition as well?”

“Yes.”

“I will probably slip up.”

“I probably will as well. Make an effort. I’ll know if your ‘slips’ are calculated.”

Unless Will was mistaken, the smile on Hannibal’s face was pleased. “Very well. How are you feeling?”

“I am as well as can be expected after getting stabbed. Probably can use some more pain medication since I’ve slept off the last dose, but I’d rather be lucid at the moment. You?”

“More muscle than internal organ damage. I am assured that I’ll live, though sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”

Will nodded, and they lapsed into silence. Hannibal reached to the bedside table, wincing slightly, and poured a glass of water for Will. 

“You should stay hydrated.”

“Thank you,” Will said, and meant it. He was parched, wrung out, and the water helped him back into his body. 

He noticed Hannibal was watching him and followed his gaze, realized he was naked, exposed save for the bandages on his shoulder, and the blanket had slipped down low enough for the smile on his stomach to be visible. He glanced over, saw the white lines on Hannibal’s wrists. They had left their marks on one another, time and again, and yet… 

And yet he was happy that Hannibal was sitting by his side.

“May I ask what has brought that smile to your face?”

Will felt himself flush for getting caught. 

_In for a penny…_

“You.”

Hannibal blinked. “That… was not the answer I was expecting.”

“I was thinking about how ludicrous this entire situation is and how, despite everything, I am happy that you survived.”

The silence stretched again as Hannibal processed those words. Will could see him dissecting them, trying to find the insult or the lie in them. 

“You really mean that, don’t you.”

It wasn’t said as a question, but Will answered anyway. “I do, yes.”

“I wonder if you will ever cease to surprise me.”

“I certainly hope not,” Will said, shifting to try to get more comfortable and only succeeding in jarring his injuries and tearing a soft grunt of pain from his mouth. 

“Chiyoh,” Hannibal said, just slightly louder than conversation tone. It took only a second for her to appear, meaning she had stationed herself just outside the bedroom door. “Will needs his next round of pain medication.”

“Of course.”

“Hannibal-.”

“You need your strength, Will, and in order to do that, you must rest.” Some of Will’s panic must have leaked out into his expression, his fear of what would happen the next time he woke, his fear that this entire conversation would fade back into the dream world as though it never happened. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be alone again. Hannibal stood, slowly, and ran his fingers gently through Will’s hair. “I will be here when you wake, if not in this exact spot, I’ll be in my bed just next door. Okay?”

He flushed again at being read so easily, but nodded his assent. He took the pills from Chiyoh, swallowing them while she hunted up some soft bread and butter for him to coat his stomach with. He grimaced at the way his stitches pulled while he ate, but he felt better with solid food in him. Hannibal pulled the blanket off the back of the chair and draped it over his lap, settling down while Will drifted back to sleep. 

The next time he woke, it was dark out. Hannibal wasn’t in the chair any more, and Will tested his feet. He was still incredibly sore and grateful for the sling keeping his arm supported. He found the en suite, ducking in there quickly, before going in search of Hannibal’s room. He paused in the doorway to watch the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, seemingly asleep. 

“You haven’t asked about Du Maurier yet,” Chiyoh said from behind him.

“I don’t particularly care about her.”

“No, your focus is elsewhere. Tell me, Will. Why the captivation with him when before you only wished to see his demise?”

“You say that as though those two things are mutually exclusive,” he responded quietly. “I have _always_ been captivated by him, Chiyoh. Even as he murdered Abigail. Even as his knife cut me open. Always.”

She was silent for so long he thought she may have vanished into the darkened hallway, but her voice came softly. “Dinner will be ready shortly. I’ll bring you both plates when it’s finished.”

He listened to her retreating footsteps until they hit the stairs before making his way to the chair next to Hannibal’s bed. Hannibal shifted, and Will knew immediately that he had heard the entire exchange. 

“I don’t know that anyone has ever used the word ‘captivating’ to describe me. I feel like I should be surprised by that fact given the word’s Latin roots.”

“I don’t believe you have imprisoned me, Hannibal. I know I am not your captive. Or, at least, no more than you are mine.”

“An even playing field.”

“Reciprocity.”

They sat in silence until Chiyoh brought their food and another round of medication for the both of them. Will stayed until he felt himself drifting off, and even then he fought against it. 

“If you won’t return to your bed to sleep, will you at least lay in this one? Sleeping in that position is no good for you.”

“Are you asking me to sleep with you, Dr. Lecter?”

“I am asking you to not put yourself through any more pain than is absolutely necessary.”

“That’s a shift,” Will said, immediately wishing he could pull the words back into his mouth.

Hannibal sighed. “With some notable exceptions, Will, that has always been the case.”

“Why do you think suffering is necessary?”

“You were hiding from yourself, shirking off your potential. I wanted to see you bloom, to become the magnificent creature I knew that you are. Nothing short of drastic action would have been able to get through the walls you built to protect yourself _from_ yourself.”

“You can’t tell me that this was all out of the goodness of your heart, Hannibal. You aren’t some savior, running around making people into the best versions of themselves that they can be. You were _curious.”_

Hannibal laughed lightly then, catching Will off guard. “Of course I was curious. Isn’t that what drives all of us? The next discovery, the next adventure, the what ifs. Will, you never responded the way I expected you to. You fought harder than I ever could have imagined, and in the wreckage of you I left in my wake, you built yourself stronger than I ever dreamed you could. And don’t think that I am attempting to take the credit for your becoming, Will. This has been you all along. I simply gave you the keys and waited to see what you would do. You amazed me.”

The silence stretched between them until Will stood, unsteady on his sluggish frame, and turned to go back to his room. Whatever game Hannibal was playing, he didn’t want any part of it. 

Or that’s what he told himself as he curled up, cold and longing (for the first time in recent memory) for the warmth of someone under the covers with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick study on the meaning of flowers:
> 
> Hardy Ferns - Luck  
> Maidenhair Ferns - Magic and Mysticism  
> Forsythia - Anticipation  
> Viscaria - Will you dance with me?  
> Ginger Flowers- Strength and Passion
> 
> While flowers can have multiple meanings from multiple sources, these are the ones that best fit the narrative. Enjoy!

He found himself ensconced in the chair by the window for most of the next day. Chiyoh was the only person he had any interaction with, eating the simple meals she brought him and taking his antibiotics. He had refused to take the pain medication she had been giving him until she (or, more likely, Hannibal) gave in and she started bringing Tylenol with Codeine instead. He felt more lucid, the constant throb from his shoulder- now out of the sling- helped to ground him in the present. More than once when he looked out the window, he found himself thinking that everything felt like a dream.   
____________________________

_‘It’s 1:13 PM. I am in Dr. Du Maurier’s home. My name is Will Graham.’_  
____________________________

He was finally able to shower, allowing him his first real look at his shoulder. The stitches were neat and even, but he knew it would leave a scar. There was deep, purple-black bruising around the entrance wound, the mark slightly jagged from where the Dragon’s knife jerked up during their struggle. Not a simple injury, but one he would most definitely be able to recover from, if he stuck with the physical therapy he remembered from when he was shot in NOLA. He could hardly remember what it had felt like when the knife entered him. He had been so caught up in the adrenaline and excitement and that feeling of _finally…_

And god, what did it say about him that the very thought of that moment when his eyes connected with Hannibal’s across the courtyard, their synchronicity, had him half hard as he rinsed off?

_You know exactly what it says about you, Will. Why do you keep running?_

For one, mind numbing moment as he came, he hoped Hannibal would be able to smell it on him. That thought stuck with him until he was confronted by the very real form of Hannibal waiting for him in what had become his room. 

“Ah… I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized you wouldn’t be dressed,” Hannibal said after realizing Will was only in a towel. 

The absurdity of it hit Will and he laughed deep. “That, of all things, is what you choose to apologize to me about?”

He grabbed the clothes he had laid out on the bed, rifling through them until he found his boxers and let the towel fall before pulling them on. He pulled on a t-shirt next, maneuvering it over his injured arm first and then the rest of the way on. He caught Hannibal watching him, eyes fixed on his stomach. 

“I suppose there are other things I should apologize to you for.”

“And if I believed that you were even remotely apologetic, I might demand those apologies from you. But you aren’t, so don’t insult me by lying.”

Hannibal tilted his head in acknowledgment. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better. Grateful for the lower dose of pain medication. I feel… present, in a way I haven’t since I woke up.”

Hannibal, for all that Will couldn’t believe it, hesitated before speaking again. “We can’t stay here much longer. I have some options… for both of us, if you are interested.”

“What do you think is left for me outside of this room, Hannibal?”

“Your job, your dogs, your… wife.”

It took everything in Will to not throw something. He hadn’t thought about Molly at all until that afternoon, and even then, it was in passing. He couldn’t even entertain the thought of Wally, not because he missed him, but because he _didn’t._

“I am not the man she married. I never was.”

“But you want to be.”

“What I want is for you to stop putting words in my mouth, Hannibal. I was well aware of what would most likely happen when Jack showed up on my doorstep. I knew, one way or another, I wasn’t coming back from this. On some level, I think Molly knew that as well. She’s strong. She’ll make it, and Wally too.” He paused, basking in the sight of Hannibal struggling to think of what he could possibly say in response. “Now, where are we going?”

“That depends entirely on whether you are up to sailing. If not, we drive north, to Canada. I have a place there we would be able to finish our recovery in. If you would prefer sailing, we still drive north, where I have a boat lined up, then sail south. I can’t imagine anyone thinking to look for us in the Caribbean. Neither of us look like the sun and sand types,” even saying that, Hannibal’s nose crinkled in disgust.

“Cuba and those rocky US relations.”

“My thought exactly. There is one matter I would like to wrap up before we leave, however…”

The hesitancy now made perfect sense. “Dr. Du Maurier.”

Hannibal nodded. “We have an agreement. I won’t take her life, in exchange for keeping you- us- alive. That doesn’t mean I planned on leaving her without… taking my dues, if you will. Does this bother you?”

“She has it coming.”

Again, that assessing look, the one Hannibal had leveled at him when he confirmed that Will wasn’t planning on killing him any time soon. “Would you care to join me for dinner, Will?”

“I’ve always enjoyed your cooking, Hannibal.”

One day, when he arrived at the gates of Hell, Will was going to look back and recall the small smile that played on Hannibal’s face at his words and the vicious tug in his chest at the sight of it and know that he had earned his place there.  
____________________________

“Mr. Graham. It’s… good to see you awake and moving.”

“Dr. Du Maurier,” he nodded in greeting. “You have neat stitches.”

“Not as neat as Dr. Lecter’s.”

“No, but that’s probably for the best for you, isn’t it?”

He pulled the pocket knife he had stashed in his pocket for just this purpose.

After everything, she had the nerve to look surprised.

_Rude._  
____________________________

The centerpiece was one of the most exquisite that Will had seen Hannibal create. There was a base of green ferns, both maidenhair and the more traditional hardy ferns. There were bright, golden sprays of forsythia woven with the softer pink and white viscaria blossoms, all cut through with the strong, deep red bursts of ginger flowers. 

Nestled in the center of the arrangement was Dr. Du Maurier’s leg, wrapped at equal intervals in ti leaves and slow roasted until glistening and falling off the bone. 

Will shifted slightly as he retrieved the bottle of wine that Hannibal had chosen for their meal from the kitchen. He wasn’t comfortable with the suit that had been picked out for him, the structure of it felt confining, but every time he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he knew that the deep blue wool brought color back into his complexion. He stepped back into the dining room just in time to see Hannibal finish lighting the candles and Dr. Du Maurier secreting an oyster fork into the folds of her dress. 

“Ah, thank you Will. I’ll pour, shall I?” Hannibal said, taking the bottle from him with an easy smile. “Bedelia, would you like some as well?”

“Please.”

He leaned in closer to her to pour the wine, and in a flash, Will had her arm gripped in his hand and a knife to her throat, the fork tines poised just a few inches away from Hannibal’s neck.

Hannibal had frozen in place, staying there for a few seconds before straightening and looking at Du Maurier. “Bedelia, I thought we had an agreement. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to kill you.”

“You won’t,” Will replied almost as easily as the knife slipped through skin. He kept his eyes on Hannibal’s, ignoring the choked off plea from Du Maurier, focused slowly on the fire that flared in the man across from him, the small, satisfied smile gracing his lips. 

Will let Du Maurier fall forward, her head ending up on her dinner plate, blood pouring down her front and soaking into her dress. He was vaguely pleased he hadn’t gotten any of her blood on himself.

“You were hoping this would happen,” he said, a statement rather than a question.

“I was curious how long it would take her before she fought back. I had anticipated after dinner, but alas, she couldn’t even wait until I poured her wine.”

“Rather rude.”

Hannibal huffed a laugh. “Yes, quite. I hope this hasn’t put off your appetite.”

They sat across from one another, so reminiscent of their early dinners that Will felt his heart stutter. Hannibal watched him as he took his first bite, eyes closing at the explosion of flavors on his tongue. They shared a smile and continued the meal in silence with only a few breaks for conversation about their departure the following day. 

They sat in front of the fireplace and enjoyed a glass of whiskey each before getting ready for bed. Just before Hannibal turned to head to his bedroom, Will placed a hand on his arm.

“You outdid yourself tonight, Hannibal. I’ll remember this meal always.”

“You never cease to surprise me, Will. It’s you who outdid yourself, with such fantastic results. Now, sleep. We have an early start to the morning.”  
____________________________

They were both awake before the sun rose the following morning, eating breakfast in the kitchen while Chiyoh loaded their bags into the half rusted out Jeep she had found for them to use. Will had laughed hard at the mildly disgusted expression on Hannibal’s face when he saw it. 

Chiyoh stopped Will as he was pulling on his jacket.

“Is this the part where you threaten me?” he asks.

“This is the part where I say that I hope you know what you’re doing. Be careful, Will. Both with him and with yourself.”

He didn’t answer, simply made his was out to the car where Hannibal was waiting in the driver’s seat. They passed the first hour of the drive in relative silence, watching the city dissolve into the long stretch of trees and highway. 

“You aren’t curious as to where we’re heading?” Hannibal asked.

“Not particularly. I’m guessing one of the New England states, if we’re driving north and getting a boat.”

“Rhode Island. There’s a place where we can spend the night, and the boat will be ready in the morning.”

“You didn’t get some obnoxiously lavish boat, did you? I refuse to sail off in a yacht. That’s how we found you in Florence, your spending habits.”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder. I’ve learned.” 

“Good.”

“You should sleep, Will. We’ve hours left of driving ahead of us.”

“Will you wake me when you need to switch?”

“Of course.”

They switched at the Pennsylvania/New York border when they stopped for lunch. Hannibal had packed leftovers, which amused Will to no end. He drove the rest of the way, following the GPS directions and letting the haze of forests and highways pass on by. He watched as Hannibal dozed, the light playing on his face, making him look years older or younger depending. He was floored by the trust it must have taken for Hannibal to leave their destination in his hands. 

They switched one more time, half way through the interminable Connecticut traffic, so Hannibal could lead them down the side roads and to a small, windswept house on the outskirts of Charlestown. Hannibal made them dinner with the provisions already stocked in the house. They finalized their plans for the next morning while they ate.

“The boat will be waiting for us near Grassy Point, maybe 15 minutes from here by car. I told the seller that we wanted to be in the water by 6:30, to get an early start on our vacation. He’s already stocked it with the list of supplies I provided him with, and we’ll take what we can from here. I know it won’t last, but for a while at least, we’ll be able to have some proper meals.”

“I’m sure you’re going to be thrilled with canned and preserved foods for most of our trip.”

“I can assure you that I’ve survived on worse.” At Will’s look, Hannibal shook his head. “Another time. The drive took more out of me than I had anticipated.”

“Leave the dishes, I’ll get them.”

“You’re going to be doing all the hard work once we’re out to sea. The least I can do is handle the meals.”

“You’ve never been sailing, have you?”

“I… tend to prefer dry land.”

“I look forward to changing that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was finally able to update with a chapter amount! There will be 11 full chapters, all between 1,500 and 2,500 words, followed by a short epilogue. I hope you enjoy the rest of it!
> 
> Also, you can find me on tumblr at [xstarxchaserx](http://www.xstarxchaserx.tumblr.com)

They made it to the meeting spot just past 5:30 to find a portly, older gentleman there with an ancient german shepherd lazing at his feet. 

“Good morning, gentlemen!” he called with a wave as they got out of their car. 

“Good morning,” Hannibal replied in greeting. “You must be Mr. Riley. I’m Peter, we spoke on the phone.”

“Yes, yes, and this must be Mark. A pleasure to meet you. This one here says you’re the sailor. Shall I show you the lady you’ll be setting out on today?”

“Please.”

Will, despite all of Hannibal’s reassurances, had still been half convinced that they would show up to find a million dollar boat and he’d have to kill him right then and there. Instead, the boat anchored at the dock was something out of one of the catalogs his father would go over with him when they were working on boat engines. 

“A Corbin 39. I got her in 1984, brand new. They sold them in kits back then. I got one that let me build out the interior custom. ’S only got one bed, but the couch pulls out if you’ll be needing a second. I updated her as the tech came out, brand new weather radar, color coded to help gauge the storm strength, new radio and wiring. Top of the line nav system, well, as of two years ago at least. I switched around some of the storage systems, made it so she can easily make it 1,500 miles or more, depending on the wind, before needing to refuel. I installed a water maker to replace the one water tank I removed to get the mileage up… Why don’t you take a look around, make sure she’s to your liking?”

Will could only nod as he climbed on board. The wood on the deck was worn but well maintained, the same with the living space. The wood paneled walls were oiled and shining, but dented and banged up from the decades of use. The bed was in the bow, more spacious than Will would have guessed from the outside. He saw plenty of storage, opened a few of the doors to see that they were stocked with canned goods, medical supplies, and tools. The kitchen was clean and well organized, the appliances in great working condition. Everything they needed for a long trip was here.

“I take it you approve?” Hannibal said from the doorway as he watched Will run his hand over the countertop. 

“It’s perfect.”

“I was hoping you would feel that way. I bought it with you in mind.”

Will felt himself flush and looked away. “Shall we settle up and get on our way?”

“Of course.”

Mr. Riley was smiling at them when they stepped back on land. “I take it she’s to your liking?”

“You have done amazing work with her, Sir. I can’t wait to see how she handles.”

“Thank you. Now, how long are you gentlemen planning on being on the water?”

“Should take us about a month, more or less,” the lie rolled from Will easily. “Depends a lot on the weather. Crossing the Atlantic can be brutal, but the winds should be with us.”

“You’ve made this trip before, haven’t you?” Mr. Jameson said with a smile. 

“Just the once,” Will replied with a sideways glance at Hannibal. “I was alone that time, though. Not quite so much fun with only ghosts to keep you company.”

“I understand that. It’s my biggest regret that I was never brave enough to make the trek myself, and poor Josie, she would’ve hated being on the water for that long. You two don’t look much like you’ll try to kill each other out there, though, which has got to mean something.”

“Oh, I think we’ll be fine for a couple of weeks,” Hannibal said. 

“Then I’ll let you both be off. Here’s the keys and the paperwork. If you boys are ever in the area again and can think of anything else you need, please reach out.”

“We will. Thank you, Mr. Riley.”  
_________________________

“It will take us a few hours to get out into open water, if you’d like to lie down for a while and rest,” Will said as he finished setting them up to head out. 

“I was thinking I would get everything set up down below. Unpack, take stock of the supplies. I trust he was thorough, but…”

“I’d feel better if you took a second look as well. Okay. You handle below deck, and I’ll get us moving. Just aiming southward?”

“For now. We can settle on a proper destination as we get closer.”

Will took great pleasure in figuring out the quirks of the new boat, getting a hang of its ins and outs as he took them through the Charlestown Breachway. It wasn’t until they crossed into international waters that Will felt himself truly relaxing as he set the navigation and stretched. 

Some part of him hadn’t quite believed they would make it, despite Hannibal’s careful planning. It would have been easier, cleaner, if the unfortunate incident with Du Maurier hadn’t happened, but there was enough pressure from the higher ups in the FBI that they would rather put the twisted tale of Hannibal the Cannibal and the FBI’s problem child to rest. They had the perfect ending gift wrapped for them in the forensic evidence on the top of that cliff face. Jack wouldn’t stop, but they could deal with that if and when it came down to it. 

For now, though, it was nothing but open water and soft sunlight. He was able to breathe.

“You look… comfortable.”

“We passed into international waters. How long have you been there?”

“Not long. I made lunch if you’re hungry.”

And just like that, he was. “Yes, please.”

They shared a small lunch of chicken and rice with sautéed vegetables. It was light and warm, made better eaten on the deck with the craft beer Hannibal had stowed below. The wind was no more than a light breeze, the sunshine warm but not overwhelming. Will reminded himself to put the sunscreen on that he had seen below. 

It only took a few hours before the glow faded and the creeping sense that the second shoe was about to drop to take over. 

There was so much he wanted to say. About the fall. About their dinner. About _everything._ His brain was clouded with the clash of his new normal against everything that came before, and he knew that they had to talk about it, knew that they wouldn’t make it if it was all swept away like the waves almost swept them off… He felt the words choking him, trying to claw their way out of his throat. 

“Will? Your calm from earlier has all but evaporated.”

Will saw it in the way Hannibal watched him, the curiosity and hesitation.“I’m not having second thoughts, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not really, at least."

“Then what has brought that troubled look to your face?”

“I don’t want you to be my therapist again.”

“I’m not trying to be, merely trying to have a conversation. An actual conversation,” he added quickly, staving off Will’s protests. “I recognize that I do not deserve your trust, but I would like to be able to count you among my… friends again.”

“I do trust you. That’s half the problem.” He took a deep breath and finished the rest of his beer in one, long swallow. “I don’t know how to talk to you, Hannibal. I’m trying, but it’s going to be a process.”

Hannibal nodded. “I understand. I find myself in a similar situation.”

“And look at us both.”

“And look at us both,” Hannibal echoed, a soft, almost sad smile on his face. “I’m going to take your advice and lie down. Call if you need me, please.”

Will hummed an affirmative as he watched Hannibal go. He noted the wince as Hannibal stood, the slightly off kilter gait, the greying pallor of his skin. He had noticed these things over the past few days, but it had been detached. There was so much else on the forefront of his mind. None of it had seemed real until they had sat down to lunch on a boat in the middle of the god damned Atlantic. He felt himself come back into his body, his other senses expanding, and he could have kicked himself for not paying more attention.

He made his way below deck, under the guise of wanting another drink, and stopped short when he saw that Hannibal was standing in the small bathroom, shirtless, wincing as he twisted and peeled the bandage off his back. The stitches were neat, Will could tell all the way from where he was standing, but the bruising was deep like that in his shoulder and he knew that the front would only look worse. The exit wounds always looked worse. 

“Christ, Hannibal. Let me help you with that. Why didn’t you tell me?” Will spoke as he made his way across the small space, not waiting for permission.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Too late for that. Far, far too late for that.”

“The worst is over, it’s just maintenance now.”

“What can I do?”

“It just needs to be cleaned and re bandaged, which I can easily-,” he cut off as Will stepped in front of him, startlingly close, to scrub his hands in the sink. “Or not.”

“Or not,” Will agreed.

Will tried very, very hard to not focus on the fact that this was the first time he had truly seen Hannibal shirtless. Tried not to think about muscle definition (surprising given the years in captivity), the softness around his middle, the smattering of sandy silver hair across his chest. 

Mason Verger’s brand on his back.

The stirring in his own jeans. 

_Fuck._

He managed to keep his hands from shaking while he gently cleaned the areas with warm water and soap, patting them dry as lightly as he could but still aware that the minute pressure caused Hannibal pain. The clean dressings were applied well enough, not as perfect as they might have been if Hannibal had done them himself, but close. 

“You would make a passable nurse," Hannibal said.

“I would make a terrible nurse.”

“The empathy would be useful.”

“The empath is-,” Will spat before catching himself, “would be unbearable.”

“Do you find this unbearable?”

Will didn’t meet his eyes. “No, I don’t.”

“And that’s the other half of the problem?”

“I thought we had agreed that neither of us were up for having this conversation?”

“I’m not the one who followed you after that agreement.”

“You looked like shit, Hannibal. I told you I worry. I wish you would have at least asked for help or even just told me how bad it actually was.”

“You feel like I lied to you.”

“I feel like you don’t trust me, which given our conversation on the deck, is ridiculous for me to be upset about. Finding my equilibrium and making sense of everything I’m feeling… It’s going to take me some time.” He took a step back. “And now we’re talking ourselves in circles. I will handle my own emotions. You, rest. Please. And you’re taking the actual bed. I won’t budge on that one, so don’t waste your breath.”

He made his escape, grabbing a bottle of water instead of beer, on his way out.  
_________________________

He had almost forgotten how much he loved the sunset on open water. The waves kicked the light back, amplifying the spectrum of colors. The entire ocean looked like it was on fire.

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asked from the door. “I’ve made supper, if you would like to join me.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The silence was just shy of comfortable as they ate, chafing at them both. Will’s thoughts drifted to other meals at other tables that were filled with conversations that meant things a world away from what the words themselves were actually saying. The entire world felt like it was shifting then as well.  
_________________________

_‘Wade into the comfort of the stream.’_  
_________________________

“I saw the fishing gear you asked Mr. Jameson to get for us. Once we run get low on our fresh food, I can see what I can catch. We’ll have better options the further south we go at this time of year. Perhaps I can even take a turn cooking. I don’t have much in my repertoire, but I can pull together a fish dish I think even you might enjoy.”

“I’m certain you can, and I would enjoy that.”

By the time they had finished, the sky was full dark and Will was bone-deep exhausted.

“All day, you’ve been telling me to rest. I believe it’s your turn. Do your once over, make sure we’re still on track, then come to bed.” 

Will froze with his drink halfway to his mouth, and Hannibal noticed as much.

“I only meant to sleep. The bed is easily big enough for two people. No need for either of us to be uncomfortable.”

“I… I’ll take the couch, but thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters tonight to make up for missing out on posting last night.
> 
> Also, uh... smut ahead! *whistles innocently*
> 
> Enjoy!

They passed 3 days in much the same manner, dancing around each other with overly polite conversation, if it could even be called that. Will continued to help Hannibal with his surgical dressings, but other than that, their interactions were shallow. It was almost more painful than the awkward, stilted emotional navigations.

The tide shifted, almost literally, as the wind picked up and the waves grew higher. Way up, long stretches of wispy cirrus clouds traced lines to the horizon where grey storm clouds swarmed. 

“Never been sailing before, right?” Will asked. Hannibal nodded tightly, the only thing betraying his anxiety. “Okay. This looks like it’s going to get pretty bad, but it won’t be as bad as it feels, okay? We’ll be in it for a while and the sea will stay fairly rough even after the worst of it has passed. Just the nature of things. Please tell me you had him get some Dramamine for you?” Another quick nod. “Good. Go, take that now, and I’ll get us set up here. Oh, and Hannibal?” He waited until Hannibal turned back to him. “I’ve sailed through storms before. The Atlantic wasn’t kind to me as I crossed to Florence, but I made it, and I was alone then. This is the part where you have to trust me.”

“I do trust you, Will.”

“And that’s half the problem?” Will asked, smiling.

“And that’s half the problem.”

He disappeared below deck.

Will went about getting the boat ready for the impending storm, not an easy task with only one properly working arm. He knew he would suffer from the overexertion, but it was a necessary evil. He took one more look at their navigation system. They were over 100 miles from the coast, more than enough sea room so they didn’t have to worry about the wind tossing them to shore without notice. The wind ramped up from a moderate breeze to a near gale, battering against him as he made the final adjustments. 

He set the rudder in one direction while pushing the headsail in the opposite, getting the boat to hove-to as the wind gradually increased. The opposing forces, if all went according to plan, would bring the boat just shy of a full stop and push it gently along in a right angle to the wind.

Will just hoped that everything kept going according to plan. 

When he finished, he made his way below only to find Hannibal nursing a glass of whiskey at the table, gripping the edge of it with white knuckles. Anyone drinking whiskey at noon was never a good sign, least of all Hannibal.

“I have us set up pretty well now. I’ll be keeping an eye on it and making adjustments as needed. Our motion should be pretty limited, but it’s not supposed to get any higher than a 7.”

“And a 7 is good?”

“It’s better than an 11.”

“Thank you, Will.”

“There might be some loud noises if the wind shifts and the boat tacks, but it’s just the sail adjusting to the new direction. Now… about that whiskey you’re drinking… Can I get a glass of that?” he forced his tone to be light and informative enough to affect calm without crossing into coddling, something he was sure Hannibal would not have tolerated.

Hannibal stood and walked to one of the cabinets, but before he could get there, the boat tacked, jerking with the breeze, and knocked Hannibal off balance. Will caught him easily, stumbling a little as he adjusted for his shoulder. 

He wanted to say something reassuring, but the words wouldn’t come out. They were so close, so close and all Will could think about is the cliff and clinging to one another and that fleeting thought he had wanted to forget, wanted to ignore, full of what ifs and wonder, then the cold water rushing rushing rushing up to meet them and— 

“Will…?” 

He heard the query like it was through a fog, and before he could question his actions, Will tilted his head and leaned up and pressed his lips to Hannibal’s. 

Who froze. 

His empathy kicked in and snapped Will out of his wanderings. He pulled back quickly. 

“I… I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t-.”

“Will, it’s-.”

“I’m sorry.” 

He was gone, the door to the cockpit closed behind him.  
_________________________

The rain battered against the boat as the sky loosed its wrath on them. Long rumbles of thunder raked through him, the flashes of lightning threw everything into sharp relief. He was grateful for the distraction, for the storm. Without it, he was afraid his thoughts would swallow him whole.  
_________________________

 _“A rare, but debauched delicacy. A right of passage, if you will.”_  
_________________________

 _Bad analogy._  
_________________________

It took several hours for them to clear the worst of the storm, but even then, the sea was relentless. He was hungry, but the thought of heading into the main cabin made him nauseated. He waited until it was full dark and slightly calmer before venturing in, hoping to find Hannibal asleep. 

_Of course not._

“There are things for sandwiches,” Hannibal said. “I couldn’t put together anything more than that with the movement. Please eat.”

Will simply nodded in response before walking straight past the refrigerator and to the cabinet Hannibal had aimed for before The Incident to retrieve the whiskey. After drinking down three fingers of that, he finally opened the fridge.

“Will-.”

“Please don’t.”

“We have to talk about this.”

He closed the fridge harder than he intended which caused the condiments inside to rattle around. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Just the truth, Will. Always and only that.”

The silence stretched until Will thought he would snap right along with it. 

“You terrify me. You absolutely terrify me. Not because you’re a murderer, obviously. I’ve killed a few people myself, and I’ve sat at your table knowing full well what- _whom_ \- I was eating. I can’t judge you on that.” He swallowed hard, gathering his thoughts and the last of his courage. “I am afraid of losing the place where you end and I begin. I am afraid of being… subsumed by you, of becoming so entwined, so caught up as one of your… your…possessions that I lose who I am. I don’t want to lose myself again, and I don’t know that I can trust you to be the gauge you have often told me you are. I don’t even trust myself.”

Will watched in fascination as Hannibal’s facade cracked around the edges as true guilt crept into his expression.

“You were mistaken when you said that I wasn’t sorry. I am. I am sorry that I took you for granted. I am sorry I let my own fears keep me from being honest with you about my emotions. I am… not used to them, and I am sorry I took your empathy for granted, thinking it would spare me from having to find the words…

“I don’t let people close enough to me to form actual connections for obvious reasons. You… I have never been able to keep you out. I assure you, Will, I do want to possess you. I do want you to be mine. I do want our edges to blur. I am not good at doing things halfway, as the saying goes, but I want all of those things knowing that you have already consumed me. As much as I want to possess you, it’s because I’m already yours.”

“Reciprocity,” Will said as a small, hesitant smile played on his mouth.

“Reciprocity.”

“Hannibal…” A distant flash of lightning, a last vestige of the storm, lit up the cabin, and then they were sharing breaths. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Just you, Will. Always and only you.”

It was Hannibal that closed the distance that time, just a soft brush, but it was Will who wrapped his fingers in Hannibal’s hair to pull him back when he went to move away. Will who wrapped his arm around Hannibal’s good side to pull them closer. Will who, panting, told Hannibal that they should probably move to the bed.

They barely made it there before Hannibal pushed him backward and followed him down onto the bed. Will hissed in a sharp breath as he jerked his shoulder the wrong way, and Hannibal went completely still above him.

“I’m sorry, Will, your shoulder-.”

“Is fine.”

“Obviously not.”

Will shifted and hooked his leg over Hannibal’s hip then flipped them over. He caught himself on his uninjured arm, knees planted on either side of Hannibal’s hips. Even in the low light, Will could see Hannibal’s pupils dilate.

“I thought I had asked you not to put words in my mouth.”

“Is this a bad time to make a pun?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Will laughed in response and went to work on the buttons of Hannibal’s shirt. He ran his hands over the sandy grey hair on Hannibal’s chest and went quiet again. “I don’t know how to tell if I’m dreaming or not.”

“It’s 8:30 PM, we’re somewhere in the Atlantic ocean, your name is Will Graham, and you’re here in bed with me.”

Will laughed. “Finally.”

He nosed his way down Hannibal’s chest and pushed his shirt out of the way as he went, carefully avoiding his injury. He undid Hannibal’s belt and fly, then pulled at them until Hannibal lifted his hips and Will was able to slide them off. He slid off his own shirt carefully and sat back on his heels so he could enjoy the sight of Hannibal spread out in front of him, his hair disheveled, his shirt rumpled beneath him. He took in the sight of Hannibal’s cock, flushed and full and leaking, uncut, and Will realized that he had absolutely no practical experience to back up the rush of things he wanted to do.

“I want to taste you,” he said, quietly. “I’ve never- I mean- I probably won’t be any good, but if you- if you tell me what you like…”

“I am certain you aren’t giving yourself enough credit, Will. I am yours to do with what you want. Please.”

And, not for the first time, Will wondered how he could possibly resist anything that Hannibal asked of him.

He brushed his fingers lightly over Hannibal’s cock before wrapping his hand around it and stroking gently. Hannibal rolled his hips in encouragement, and the sight of that made Will’s mouth water. He lowered his head and licked a stripe with the flat of his tongue from base to tip, dipped in to run his tongue under Hannibal’s foreskin experimentally, and enjoyed the soft exhale that elicited. 

Hannibal let him explore for a few more minutes before he ran his fingers along Will’s scalp with just a hint of his nails present. The sensation made Will groan around him, and Hannibal took the opportunity to hold his head in place as he thrust his hips up slightly. Will let himself be guided, used, relaxing his throat as much as he could while Hannibal’s hold on his hair tightened. 

Hannibal’s voice was rough as he spoke, “Oh, my gorgeous boy, look at you.” He loosed his grip and carded his hand through Will’s hair, urging him up and off. “Come here, please.”

He went reluctantly, allowing Hannibal to pull him up into another kiss. His lips tingled, almost numb but not quite, and it added something to the kiss he hadn’t known he was missing. Hannibal reached down to undo the fly of Will’s jeans. He pushed them down just enough to free Will’s cock. They shifted once again, bodies lined up, and-.

_“Yes.”_

Hannibal groaned softly in response as they rocked together. Will’s saliva acted as lubricant easing their motion, and Will found himself startlingly close to as orgasm before he was ready.

“Hannibal, I’m-.”

“Good-.”

“I don’t want it to be over so soon.”

“We have plenty of time, Will. This won’t be the last time.” He watched a flicker of doubt creep crack into the pleasure that had taken root in Will’s expression and kissed him to chase it away. “If you think I would be able to let you go now that I’ve had you, you have utterly failed as a profiler. Let go, Will. I have you. Let go.”

Will closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him. It spilled out from his gut, through his limbs, and crashed through his mind like so much white noise. A magnet against the hard drive, wiped clean and gloriously light. 

He opened his eyes just in time to watch as Hannibal tilted over the edge and painted his own chest with a loud groan. They collapsed together, enjoying the proximity as their breathing slowed.

Hannibal ran his fingers through their combined mess on his chest before it cooled and brought them to his lips. He closed his eyes, and Will couldn’t help but to chase the taste himself with a kiss. He knew there was something to be said about tasting them like that, tasting Hannibal, that echoed far too much of their past, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly at the thought. 

Hannibal hummed a query at him, and Will smiled lightly.

“For some reason, this isn’t the way I had imagined tasting you for the first time.”

Hannibal was silent for a moment before huffing out a small laugh. “Your pillow talk is astounding.”

“You love it.”

“I love you.”

Hannibal seemed just as surprised by his own admission as Will was.

“Oh,” Will said, and wished he could swallow the word back up. He watched as Hannibal’s face closed back up, the mask sliding firmly back into place. “No, no that’s not- I didn’t mean-.” He took a deep breath and pushed himself up so he could meet Hannibal’s gaze. “I asked Bedelia once if you were in love with me,” he said quietly.

“What did she tell you?”

“She said that you could daily feel a stab of hunger for me, and find nourishment at the very sight of me.”

“She was right.”

“She also asked me if I ached for you.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I didn’t have an answer for her.” Hannibal went to look away from him, but Will placed his hand on his cheek and held him in place. “I didn’t have an answer because I wasn’t ready to say yes.”

With his hand where it was, Will felt Hannibal’s pulse spike. “Will…”

“I love you too.”

The kiss they shared left Will breathless, and if his dreams that night had shadows stalking him through the forest, he chose to ignore them when he woke the next morning to Hannibal and breakfast and a calmer sea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find a visual aid in the notes at the end of the chapter!

Another week, and they had finished the last of their fresh provisions. Will had taken to fishing to make up the difference, and succeeded in making a few memorable meals for them both. On one day when his line kept coming up empty, Hannibal set about making them dinner from their canned provisions. 

“I spent a portion of my childhood in an orphanage,” he said as he ground together chickpeas, garlic, and olive oil for hummus. “Vegetables, canned even, were a rare delicacy.”

“Particular about what you put in your body. Would this be the start of that?”

Will knew it wasn’t. He knew about Mischa, of course, but he didn’t want to push Hannibal into sharing details before he was ready. 

So Will watched as Hannibal’s motions stilled for a moment before continuing.

“No, it started before that. With my sister, Mischa.” He didn’t look at Will as he spoke, and Will could tell he was assuming the worst. “I didn’t kill her, I never would have hurt her, but…”

“But it was cold and there was nothing to eat and you were a child who wanted to protect his sister, to preserve her and keep her close in the only way that you could.” 

Hannibal looked up sharply at him. “You knew. Chiyoh-.”

“Told me nothing I wasn’t able to puzzle out when I visited Lithuania.” He let the silence pull for a moment. “I’m almost sorry we aren’t able to visit there. I’d love to see your reaction to the… installation I created for you, though it’s probably well ruined by now."

“You killed him.”

“Chiyoh killed him. I… provided the opening.”

“Tell me?”

And so, Will did.  
_________________________

As they reached the last few days of their trip, Hannibal started pulling together the next steps of their escape. He contacted a realtor to outline the specifications for their new home. It made Will uncomfortable to hear the amenities Hannibal was requesting, knowing the price a place like that would demand. He didn’t like needing to rely on Hannibal to keep them afloat financially. He had never depended on anyone to provide for him, not since he was a child, and that had even been touch and go. His father was a good man, but their circumstances left a lot of hungry nights and cold mornings in their wake. 

He had sworn he would never be in a position like that again, and yet, there he was.

“What dark thoughts have brought that look to your face, Will?”

“I fear I’m not… pulling my weight.”

“We wouldn’t have made it this far without your expertise-.”

“In a boat you bought.”

“Ah. Your concerns are purely financial.”

“I wouldn’t say purely, but primarily, yes.”

The smile that spread across Hannibal’s face was too predatory for Will not to take notice. He took an involuntary step back as Hannibal stepped closer to him. 

“Will, it gives me great pleasure to do things for you, because I like to see you enjoying them. I bought this boat for you because I trusted you to get us to safety, but also because I wanted to see you like this, the sea breeze in your hair, skin tanned, weightless. I want to dress you in fine clothing, not always suits, I assure you, but sometimes, because I want to see you in the things that I have chosen for you. I want to see you eating in fine restaurants and accompanying me to the opera and I know that you’ll hate all of it,” he ran his fingers through Will’s hair, “except you won’t, really, because you’ll know that it makes me happy. I want to buy the house we’ll share, not because I want to lord it over you, but because I have exacting standards. That’s all.

“But the idea that you aren’t ‘pulling your weight,’ as you said, is absurd. You have sailed us through storms, have provided food for our table, and,” his hand made it’s way down to the back of Will’s neck and gripped him lightly there, “you provide me with an unending source of companionship. I fear I would be lost without you.”

“You make it sound like I’m a service dog,” Will replied, resorting to abrasiveness in the face of his embarrassment. 

“Loyal, comforting, a guide… And you do enjoy being of service to me in many ways.” Hannibal brought their bodies flush against one another so Will felt how hard he was. How hard they both were.

Will’s breath caught, the exact reaction Hannibal wanted. “H-Hannibal-.”

Hannibal nosed his way down Will’s throat, took in the cocktail of adrenaline, endorphins, salt water, and Will that shredded another layer of his composure. “Tell me I’m wrong, Will. Tell me and I’ll stop.”

He waited as patiently as he could for Will to speak, and he was not disappointed.   
“No more lies, remember?”

And just like that, Hannibal had Will pressed firmly against the wall, head pulled to the side, and his teeth sinking into the joint where Will’s neck met his good shoulder. 

_“Fuck.”_

“Yes, I think so, don’t you?” 

Will whined, low and deep, and Hannibal bit him again, harder, and pulled the hem of his t-shirt up, up, until he was able to pull it over Will’s head. He turned Will so he was bent over the small kitchen table. He pulled down Will’s shorts and boxers, letting them pool around his ankles, then trailed kisses and bites down his back and shoulders. Each bite was harder than the last, and Hannibal reveled in both the sounds Will was making and the knowledge that the marks he was leaving would last.

Will had already dissolved into a flood of not thinking. It was easier to let go, to let Hannibal take control like this. He knew his concerns were ridiculous, knew that he was cared for in the strange way that Hannibal seemed to care for him, seemed to love him. He knew that there was nothing to fear. 

Well, until he felt Hannibal’s breath ghosting lower and lower until his tongue licked one broad stripe up the cleft of Will’s ass. That was enough to force him back into his body.

“H-Hannibal, what-?”

“Shh, shh. Relax, Will.”

“But-.”

A quick yet hard swat to his ass had him shutting back up. “That’s better.”

Hannibal’s tongue worked him open bit by bit, first lapping against his hole, then gently pressing in as deep as he could get his tongue. Words had stopped forming coherently in Will’s mind. He felt like he was being dissected, taken apart piece by piece and laid out on display for Hannibal to examine or devour as he saw fit. He rocked himself back into Hannibal’s face, debased past the point of embarrassment or hesitation. He whimpered when Hannibal pulled away, barely hanging on while the other man left him spread out there and returned only a moment later with something slick that allowed his finger to ease into Will right alongside his tongue. 

One finger became two became three while Hannibal ensured that Will was ready for him. He pressed against Will’s prostate on every other thrust, just enough to keep him on edge but not to push him over. 

He wanted it to hurt, just a little, just enough, but was trying to avoid damage. 

Not trying very hard, sure, but trying nonetheless. 

Finally, after what felt like year’s to Will, Hannibal kissed his way back up to Will’s neck to bite gently while he undid his pants and pushed them down around his own hips enough to free his erection. He slowly pulled his fingers from Will, using the extra lubricant on them to slick up his cock. Will tried to chase them, tried to impale himself again, but only succeeded in slotting Hannibal’s cock in between his cheeks. The contact made him moan and rock back harder. 

“I want you to ask me for it,” Hannibal said.

Will’s mind flatlined. _“Hnng.”_

Hannibal chuckled darkly. “That doesn’t sound very much like words, my sweet boy.”

“Hannibal, please…”

“Please what?”

“I-Hannibal-I can’t- I-.”

He rocked his hips, running his cock over Will’s hole, making him cry out. “Oh, I think you can. If you want it badly enough, you can.”

“ _God…_ Please, Hannibal, please… I- I want you… I want you to fuck me.”

Hannibal chuckled darkly. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

Before Will could respond, Hannibal lined himself up and pushed slowly but steadily into Will’s still stretched hole. He allowed Will just a moment to adjust, to get used to the feeling of being that filled up, to pull himself back from the brink before he pulled out and thrust back in harder. 

Will’s moan was more pain than pleasure and everything Hannibal had hoped for. Perhaps not for their first time, he had thought about being gentle, about soft touches and gentle hands, but this… 

“Fuck, yes, Hannibal. _Just like that.”_

This was more than he could ever have hoped for. 

Will braced himself on the table as best he could while he brought a hand down to encircle his own erection. Hannibal batted it away and wrapped his own fingers around Will’s copiously leaking cock. He felt Will’s orgasm building rapidly, his channel clenched and contracted rhythmically around him while he fucked into Will at the same tempo he was using to stroke him. 

“Hannibal-!”

“Not yet, Will. Hold on. You’ll come when I tell you to, do you understand?”

“Please, please, I- I can’t-.”

“Yes you can, wait for permission, Will. You can do this.”

Hannibal felt himself getting closer and closer as Will’s moans and pleading took on a desperate edge. A few more thrusts and-.

“Come for me, Will. Come now.”

He half screamed as he came all over the table, clenching down around Hannibal and throwing him over the precipice with him. 

That night, they curled up together in bed while Hannibal made use of the satellite signal to show Will the houses he had narrowed his search down to. Together, they made their choice.   
_________________________

The house was a lot more tame than Will had feared, even from the photographs they looked at. It was just over 2,000 square feet, with four bedrooms that were all a fairly decent size with the exception of the master bedroom which was almost twice the size of the others. Along one wall sat a king sized bed opposite a wall that was basically one large window with a sliding glass door that lead out onto a balcony with views of the city below them. The bedroom was easily the size of the downstairs of Will’s Wolf Trap home. The bathroom alone was probably the size of his old kitchen, with soft grey tiles and wood accents. The shower head poured water like rain from the ceiling.

The kitchen was the other major conceit to the house. Ceramic tile and double ovens in a crisp and clean space that Will easily envisioned Hannibal cooking in, moving about like he always did, with grace and music to his movements that only he could hear while Will sat at the counter with a glass of wine watching him.

“Do you like it? Can you see yourself living here?”

“Myself? No…” He smiled up at Hannibal. “Us, though. That I can picture.”

Hannibal turned to the realtor. “We’ll take it.”  
_________________________

They spent a few final days on the boat while the paperwork was finished and the necessities were bought for the house. Hannibal wanted their first dinner in the house to be an occasion, or so he told Will as he ushered him out of the kitchen while he cooked. 

"Take a shower, relax. I’ll call you when dinner is ready, in about an hour.”

And how could Will refuse when he was asked so nicely?

He did take a shower. The water ran long and hot, and though he had been dubious about the “rain shower” when he first heard the term, it was heavenly. He towel dried when he was finished, then spent a few minutes longer than normal trying to tame his curls into something more manageable. 

When Will stepped back into the bedroom, the late nights Hannibal had spent on the computer suddenly made more sense. He had been shopping.

There was a soft, light grey suit waiting for him on the bed. The fabric was lightweight, not nearly as confining as he had feared given the warmth of early May. The shirt Hannibal had set out for him was plum and also lightweight. He pulled them on along with the deep brown shoes Hannibal had set next to the bed.

Hannibal called him not long after he had finished dressing. He made his way into the dining room and smiled at the decorations. The table was filled with one of Hannibal’s elaborate centerpieces, this time made of flowers and fruits from their very garden. The citrusy flavors and scents complimented the fresh seafood Hannibal had picked up at the market earlier in the day.

“This looks delicious, Hannibal. Thank you.”

“I hope you think it tastes as good as it looks,” he replied while pouring them both a glass of white wine. 

“It usually tastes even better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here is how I imagine their house.](https://www.newcanaanmodern.org)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end of chapter notes for translation and a recipe!

The next week passed in a similar fashion. The days were quiet and lazy, filled with reading, swimming, or exploring each other while on solid ground. The nights were filled with much of the same. 

One morning, Will had the distinct pleasure of waking up before Hannibal. He could tell it was still early, the light in the room had the pearlescent quality of dawn to it. He slipped out of the bed as quietly as he could and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. 

While their time on the island so far had been glorious, he had started feeling restless. He decided to explore the island and left a quick note on his pillow for Hannibal when he woke. 

_H-_

_Gone for a walk, just exploring. Be home before dinner._

_x. Will_

_P.S. Everything is fine. Stop worrying._

Grabbing his wallet and the cash on hand that Hannibal had insisted on giving him, he made his way down to the main body of the town by foot. The air was still relatively cool in the early morning, and he felt the town waking up around him. The main street was lined with small shops and restaurants just opening their doors. He bought a mango from a street vendor who cut the fruit into petals for breakfast. The sugar was good, but he found himself following his nose to a cafe.

“¿Puedo tomar un café por favor?”

“Sí, Señor. Un momento.”

“Ésta bien.”

“I can also speak in English if you would prefer, Señor.”

“If it’s not too bad, I would love to practice my Spanish. It’s been a while since I’ve used it.”

“Por supuesto.”

“Por favor, llámame Mark.”

“My name is Benita. Nice to meet you, Mark.”

They continued their conversation, talking about the weather and different fishing spots near to them. Will found it easy to slip into one of the many personalities he carried around with him, affecting an air of easy confidence and genuine curiosity.

“Oh, for that, you should speak to my brother. Tajo!” 

Will spent the rest of his morning discussing the various fishing areas around the island the the might like to adventure to. Tajo was filled with local secrets, opening up more and more as he realized Will was not just some tourist, that he knew what he was talking about. When Will mentioned that he used to make his own lures, Tajo lit up. Benita flittered between their seats in front of the cafe and waiting on customers inside the shop. Will felt comfortable in a way that he hadn’t thought he would be able to. 

He had lunch with them, a dish Benita called _pescado encocado_ , with peppers, tomatoes, onions, and a finely spiced coconut sauce accompanying the fresh fish Tajo had caught. They paired it with fried plantains and rice and by the time he left, Will had secured the recipe with the intent of making it for Hannibal.

The walk back to the house was hot, and by the time he arrived, he wanted nothing more than to peel off his clothes and take advantage of their pool. He found Hannibal on the deck with a book, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbow, feet bare, and propped up on a chair. Will couldn’t help the easy smile that came to his face. 

“Hello,” Will greeted him with a quick kiss to the cheek. “You look comfortable.”

“Hello, Will.”

_Ah. That tone._

“How was your day?”

“Just fine, Will.”

“Only fine?”

“Yes, only fine.”

Will sighed. “Hannibal, we’re past the times when you were able to hide being upset from me.”

Hannibal closed his book and set it to the side. “I was… worried about you today.”

“I left you a note-.”

“‘Everything is fine. Stop worrying.’ Those are the exact words someone uses when there’s something you should be worrying about.”

“Except that I promised you honesty, Hannibal. I didn’t want to wake you since I know how little sleep you get. I just… needed to do something, to move, and to know that I could… do those things on my own. That I could find my footing. I am sorry that I worried you. I promise I will wake you up next time.”

He brushed a stray hair from Hannibal’s forehead, and the other man caught his wrist when he went to pull away. He pressed a kiss to Will’s palm, and the gesture cracked something in Will’s chest. 

“No, I’m sorry , Will. I let my fears get the best of me and my imagination ran wild with them. Trust doesn’t come easy for me, nor you, and I know that. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

“Thank you,” Will said softly, leaning down for a gentle kiss.

“How was your adventure today?”

“Fruitful. I found a small cafe, had lunch with one of the owners who happens to be an avid fisherman. I have his recipe for pescado encocado. I look forward to making it for you one of these nights, hopefully with fish I can catch myself. I just need to get some fishing equipment that is better suited for closer to shore.”

“I’m sure there is a shop near by.”

“I passed one, but didn’t feel like shopping. I was actually hoping you might go for a swim with me?”

“That would be lovely.”

As they stripped down, Hannibal folded their clothes and left them on the table. This was Will’s favorite part of the house, being able to be as free and open as they wanted because of how secluded it was. He enjoyed watching Hannibal dive into the pool, long lines and lithe muscles. Their wounds had healed enough where they were able to enjoy these forays into the water together, if not move as smoothly as they had at one time. 

“Are you going to join me, or just watch?”

"I wouldn’t mind just watching you, but… I think I would prefer to get a bit more… involved.” He swam over to Hannibal who watched him curiously. “There’s something I’ve wanted to try since you first did it to me… If you would be interested.”

“You don’t have to make anything up to me about today, Will.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t still want to taste,” Will let the word roll off his tongue and hang there for a second before he continued, “every part of you. It’s okay if that isn’t something that you want-.”

“I never said it wasn’t.”

“Excellent.”

The water created a delicious slide between their bodies as Will brought his arms around Hannibal and kissed him. They floated, hands roaming, brushing over semi-healed wounds and scars. Will walked Hannibal backward, slowly moving toward the stairs. It almost felt strange to him, to be in control of the situation. Will knew he tended to defer to Hannibal in all things, and almost especially in the bedroom. After their first time on the boat when he had flipped their positions to prove he wasn’t as weak as Hannibal feared he was, he had willingly bared his throat and let Hannibal run with it, and run with it he had. 

Will felt it was time to return the favor.

He took Hannibal in hand, stroking him with light touches and batting his hands away when he went to reciprocate. Before Hannibal got too close to the edge, Will turned him around and moved him to kneel on the steps facing away. Hannibal was able to brace himself on one of the higher steps, his chest just touching the water, and Will had to take a moment to appreciate the sight of him before running his hands down his body. 

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he whispered in Hannibal’s ear, punctuating the sentence with a gentle nip that sent a visible shiver down Hannibal’s spine. “Tell me if you don’t like something. 

He took a shaky breath and lowered himself behind Hannibal, spreading him out with his hands and nosing in to lick the first stripe over his hole. Distantly, he noted the musky taste mixed with the sharpness of pool chlorine, the texture on his tongue unlike anything he had ever experienced before, the strangeness of the situation…

But that all took a back seat to the delicious, down right sinful sound that poured out of Hannibal’s throat. 

It was enough to melt away any lingering anxiety and force him into the present, everything narrowing down to the slow rock of Hannibal’s hips back against him and the desire to make the cracks in his armor wider. He brought a hand down and cupped Hannibal’s cock and felt the moment Hannibal stuttered, trying to thrust forward for more friction but not wanting to move away from Will. It didn’t take long after that for Hannibal’s orgasm to hit.

Will took himself in hand, stroking quickly, already so close to coming. When Hannibal realized what he was doing, he turned to sit on the step, batted away Will’s hand, and swallowed him down to the root in one easy motion, and all Will could do was curse. 

Afterward, they floated in the water near to one another and enjoyed the silence and relaxation in the heavy afternoon heat. 

“I saw an advertisement for the opening of a new art gallery,” Will said, breaking the silence. “We could go, if you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t enjoy that.”

“The art was appealing, at least, if not the socializing. I can relegate myself to one of those suits you were eager to get me into.”

“You spoil me with your generosity, Will.”

“I don’t think you’re the one being spoiled here.”

Hannibal stretched and gave Will a lascivious grin. “My body begs to differ at the moment.”  
______________________

Will stepped out of the shower and dried off before making an attempt on taming his curls into place. His hair had gotten longer than he normally wore it and took longer to fuss into something presentable. Despite the evening being his idea, Will was nervous. He knew it would be firmly in Hannibal’s territory, high society and posturing that set Will’s teeth on edge, but he knew that it would be a good way to both make Hannibal happy and to solidify their presence among the expat community on the island. 

When he finally made it into the bedroom, he saw the suit Hannibal had laid out for him. It was lightweight cotton, perfect for the warm night he knew was ahead of them. The color was a muted blue-grey, soft, paired with a crisp white shirt underneath. Will abandoned the tie, knowing it would make him feel like he was suffocating in a room full of strangers. He left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, certain that it would drive Hannibal ever so slightly around the bend. 

He spared a quick look at himself in the mirror to ensure he hadn’t messed his hair up too badly, and was pleased to find that he looked good, even to himself. 

He found Hannibal waiting in the living room in a smoky grey suit, darker than Will’s but with a blue pocket square of the same shade. It was a subtle match, one that made Will smile in spite of himself. 

“You look incredibly handsome, Will.”

“Thank you. I love this color.”

“I was hoping you would,” Hannibal replied, pulling Will’s hand up to his lips to kiss. “Shall we?”

They ate a light dinner at a restaurant just down the road from the gallery, and Will barely tasted the food Hannibal was so obviously relishing.

“You seem anxious, Will.”

“I am anxious. A large crown, a significant number of expats. A lot of worry, but I trust you to keep us safe.”

“This was your idea.”

“I know that, and I don’t regret the suggestion or wish we hadn’t come out. I didn’t say the anxiety wasn’t worth it, Hannibal. You look particularly gorgeous tonight, by the way. I’m sorry I didn’t say so earlier.”

Will delighted in seeing the soft flush across those high cheek bones. “Thank you, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W: "Can I have a coffee please?"  
> B: "Yes, sir. One moment."  
> W: "Of course."  
> _____
> 
> B: "Of course, sir."  
> W: "Please, my name is Mark."
> 
>  
> 
> [Here is the recipe I used as inspiration in the chapter!](https://www.laylita.com/recipes/pescado-encocado-or-fish-with-coconut-sauce/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, about those poor negotiations and possessive behavior and marking that I mentioned in the tags...

The gallery was beautiful, classic architecture blending seamlessly with modern lighting and glass additions. The crowd was as large as Will feared, but he pulled on the carefully crafted person suit he had been developing for himself, all thick southern accent and charm, and it allowed him to make it through the first round of introductions and placating at Hannibal’s side before it began to crack. Hannibal had set him up with doctor credentials, psychiatry of course, and Will realized he could build a lucrative practice from just the dozen or so people he had spoken with.

He excused himself from the latest conversation with a reassuring pat to Hannibal’s arm before heading to the bar for a whiskey and meandering the perimeter of the room. He found himself in a smaller gallery off to one side with a much smaller grouping of people, all chattering quietly. He found himself drawn to a painting that was more texture than actual imagery, splashes of red in varying hues that reminded him of so many crime scenes, so many lives vindicated or… ended by him. It should have made him uncomfortable. 

Instead, it made him _hungry._

“The colors in this piece are so vivid,” a man said from next to him. “Who knew there could be so many shades and nuances to one color.”

“I can only imagine the patience and precision with which the artist mixed her paints to get this many variations.”

“I’m Christopher. Christopher Marcus. Please, call me Chris.”

“Robert. Robert Jameson. Please, don’t call me Bob.”

Christopher laughed. “Ah, yes, the new psychiatrist to the island. Word travels fast at these events, especially with new faces.”

“Usually nothing more than rumor and lies.”

“I don’t know, attractive expat with a darling southern accent and a psych degree. Seems pretty on the nose from what I can gather.”

“And your accent… Midwest?”

“Saint Louis, born and raised, until I got sick of it and moved to New York, than Florida, then here. Let me guess, Louisiana?”

“That would be right.”

“Can I let you in on a little secret?”

Will’s heart picked up. “Why not? What’s a secret between strangers?”

Christopher laughed long and deep before leaning in conspiratorially. “Precisely. Lower risk profile, sharing secrets with someone when there are no repercussions. My secret is that I absolutely detest these events. Far too many people making rather large fools of themselves and not focusing enough on the art.”

“I agree completely,” Will replied, not even needing to fake the disdain in his voice. 

“Why this painting? What drew you to it?”

“Besides all the colors?”

“Yes, besides the colors,” Christopher replied, smile indulgent. “All the paintings in here, why this one?”

“It made me question why she chose this color. Why red? It reminds me of blood, of life and death and the instability of both. From a distance, the texture is hard to grasp. It looks soft, multifaceted yet shallow. But up close… fragmented, sharp. Every color skillfully applied and every peak precise.”

“Careful control coupled with violence.”

“Precisely.”

“Fascinating.”

Will dropped his voice, enjoying the game but wanting to shift away from the reality and depth of what he had just admitted. “I really just escaped to this room to get away from the inane conversations happening, and this was the picture that caught me first.”

Christopher laughed. “Your husband is a lucky man to have someone willing to accompany him to these events despite them not being your cup of tea.”

“He’s not my husband,” Will replied automatically. He didn’t know what the word for them was, they hadn’t discussed labels. Before Will could back pedal, Christopher’s smile shifted.

“Is that so? Well, good thing for that. I’d really hate to be hitting on a married man,” he said as he ran his hand across Will’s shoulder and down his arm.

Will took half a step away. “Not married, no, but taken.”

“Monogamous?”

Were they? Another thing they hadn’t discussed. He was, of course. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone besides Hannibal ever again. Who else would hold the same appeal? But Hannibal… 

“Ah, not that easy an answer to give, Dr. Jameson?” Again, Will cursed his hesitation. “These events are obviously his forte. I doubt he would notice if you were to slip off for a while? Or perhaps,” Christopher stepped closer again, “perhaps even disappear for the rest of the evening altogether?”

“Even if I was interested, which I’m not, believe me when I tell you that he most certainly would.”

“Yes, I most certainly would,” Hannibal said from behind them both. “Hello, Robert,” he punctuated the greeting with a slide of his arm around Will’s waist and a kiss to his temple. “Professor Marcus, I have heard much about you this evening.”

“I have heard much about you as well, Mr. Pavlis, though not from your… not husband, here.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is my partner, Mr. Marcus, who I was hoping would join me for a drink at the bar.”

“Happily, Eric.”

They walked straight past the bar, through the lobby, and to the valet stand to retrieve their car. Will knew not to question this sudden shift, rather simply allowed himself to be bundled into the car. Hannibal ensured Will’s seatbelt was fastened before peeling off into the night. 

“Hannibal-.”

“Not now, Will.”

He didn’t push, merely watched as the city lights blurred by. He was quiet getting out of the car and unlocked the door before Hannibal could get there. He closed it behind him once Hannibal was in, and before he could speak, Hannibal pushed him face first up against the door. 

“He touched you.” 

Hannibal’s voice was low, almost cold, and Will felt his fight or flight response kick into high gear.

“Hannibal-.”

“He put his hands on you.”

“He touched my shoulder, Hannibal-.”

Hannibal pulled his jacket off and tossed it to the side. “I can smell him on you,” Hannibal all but growled in Will’s ear.

_Jesus, fuck._

“Hannibal, _please._ ” Will had intended it to be a question, wondering what exactly Hannibal thought he was doing, but it came out far too close to begging. 

Hannibal popped the buttons on Will’s shirt, yanking it out from where it was tucked into his pants and off his shoulders. Will shuddered at the sudden temperature shift, at the violence of it all, and felt himself growing harder. Hannibal’s teeth ran down the back of his neck. 

“You are mine, Will. I don’t want to share you. Do you understand me?”

“Hannibal-!”

Will’s pants were around his thighs, and Hannibal shoved two fingers into his mouth, cutting off his words. Will sucked them deeper, getting them as wet as he could, knowing without a doubt what was coming. Both fingers breeched him together, the sharp burn ripping a cry from his throat.

Hannibal’s voice was deeper, accent thicker, as he added in a third finger. “Yes, let me hear you. I want to hear what I do to you.” The first tear escaped the corner of Will’s eye, and Hannibal lapped at it with his tongue. “So gorgeous for me, Will, the way you open up for me. I am the only one who gets to see you like this, do you understand? I don’t share, Will. You are mine.”

“Yes, yes, _yes._ Yours, Hannibal, all-,” he sobbed. “All yours.”

Hannibal quickly replaced his fingers with his cock, well before Will was properly prepared, and it took everything in Will not to scream at the overwhelming sensation. 

“The only one who gets to take you apart like this, Will. I told you. I told you I wanted to possess you. You had your chance to walk away. Not anymore.”

“Please, Hannibal, _please._ ” Will’s words descended into nonsense, strings of pleading and begging and little cohesion, as Hannibal’s thrusts picked up pace and ferocity. 

“Mine, Will, all mine,” Hannibal said before he sank his teeth into the flesh where Will’s neck met his shoulder. As Will felt the first tear of skin, he cried out, vision going white, and came and came and came. Hannibal followed right behind him, and they collapsed together against the door. 

Hannibal pulled out as gingerly as he could, but it still elicited a wince from Will. Hannibal helped him back into his pants before Will turned around and kissed him. He tasted his blood on Hannibal’s lips and licked deeper into the other man’s mouth, enjoying the taste of them both there. He could feel the ache in his shoulder, the dribble of blood running down his back, and knew that it had to be cleaned and taken care of. He simply didn’t care, happy to stand and kiss Hannibal for the rest of his life. 

“Possessive much?” he joked once Hannibal pulled away and pressed their foreheads together.

“I did warn you.”

“I kind of like it.”

“Good. I... I don’t know what I would do if you wanted to leave.”

Will traced one of Hannibal’s cheekbones with a fingertip. “I would kill you,” he replied.

Hannibal closed his eyes and sighed. “With your hands?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter since I was delayed in posting last night. It works out since these two chapters ended up a fair bit shorter than the rest of them. Enjoy!

The time passed by quickly for them both. Will made occasional forays into the city proper, mostly to have lunch or to go fishing with Benita and Tajo. He and Hannibal grew stronger, both recovered completely from their physical wounds with the exception of a few lingering aches as the weather shifted. The heat of the summer stretched relentlessly, heralding in the beginning of hurricane season and the early autumn rains. The initial need to be intimate with one another tapered off slowly to a different sort of intimacy. No longer purely focused on sex, rather sharing moments curled together on the couch in the living room while they read or casual touches in the kitchen as one or the other of them prepared dinner. 

Their next excursion was one that Will was even less excited about than the gallery opening: an opera, not in a language that he understood. He was sure it would be beautiful, but he felt… uncomfortable in his own skin. He didn’t want to have to put on a person suit and face more of Hannibal’s high society connections.

The first act felt like dragged on for years. He distracted himself by watching Hannibal watching the show instead. His eyes were closed, head tossed back, taking in every nuance of the music. When it was time for intermission, his eyes opened, even before the lights came on, and he caught Will’s gaze.

“You were watching me.”

“I was, yes.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

“As is the show.”

Will entwined his fingers with Hannibal’s before replying. “But watching you watching the show was fairly breathtaking.”

The embarrassment he might have felt about such an honest and emotional admission was diminished greatly by the slight flush that crossed Hannibal’s face. “You’re in a rather poetic mood this evening.”

“Such a polite way of calling me a sap.”

“I like to think of it more as you being romantic,” Hannibal replied with an easy smile before he brought Will’s hand up to his lips to kiss his knuckles.   
______________________

 _Will’s knuckles, broken open and bleeding. Randal Tier’s body, face bashed almost to the point of being unrecognizable. Hannibal, carefully washing away the blood, wrapping the wounds gently, amused and proud and angry all at once._  
______________________

“Where did your mind go just now, Will?”

“I was thinking of the night I brought Randall Tier’s body to you. I thought about kissing you then,” he said, then paused and brought his eyes back up to meet Hannibal’s. “I thought about what it would feel like to wrap my still bleeding hands around your throat as I took you.”

Hannibal’s pupils went wide and dark. “I wanted to lick the blood from your knuckles, but I was afraid that if I were to ever get a taste of you, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

“I’m grateful I never ended up as a meal on your table.”

“As am I, Will. As am I.”

The house lights flickered, signaling the show was about to begin again. The second act passed by quicker, Will still not paying attention to the performance, but knowing that Hannibal wasn’t entirely focused on the stage either. When the show ended, Hannibal suggested they linger for a while.

“We’ll just stay an hour or so, solidify our identities a little more-.”

“Hannibal, it is quite alright with me if you want to socialize. No need to justify the action to me. If it becomes too much, I’ll let you know.”

“Of course, _mylimasis._ ”

Will stopped. “What does that mean?”

“Ah… beloved, in my mother tongue.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Will flushed and allowed himself to be kissed before Hannibal lead them out of their box and down to the bustling lobby. A few people recognized them as they circulated, and Will found himself engaged in a conversation regarding psychological practices with a small group of people while Hannibal discussed the opera with a few others. 

“Dr. Jameson, I was actually hoping to speak with you and maybe as a favor.”

“That depends entirely on what that favor would be, Mr. Marsden.”

He laughed. “I know you don’t have a practice on the island as of yet, but I was wondering if you would be open to taking patients.”

“Are you looking for a psychiatrist?”

“Not me, no.” It was too quick of a denial, and Will almost laughed. “My wife, however. She could use someone to talk to. She’s been too embarrassed to seek treatment from anyone on the island, and most of the doctors are men. I mean, I know you are as well, but you’re gay, so it has a different connotation to her, and to myself as well.”

“I haven’t really considered the possibility. I was rather invested in my sabbatical, though I don’t think I would be opposed. I would have to speak to your wife first before I agreed to anything, obviously. It would all depend on her consent.”

"Of course, of course. Let me introduce you. We even have several private rooms in our home, if you would be so inclined to make house calls…”

Will caught Hannibal’s eye as Mr. Marsden lead him off in search of his wife. The small quirk of Hannibal’s lips and the knowing glint in his eye told Will all he needed to know: Hannibal was just as excited at the prospect of Will getting his first patient as Will himself was.  
_____________________

“So, taking patients now, Doctor?” Hannibal asked, smile evident in his voice as he poured them both a glass of brandy at home.

“I know you had pictured this when you gave me these credentials. Interested in what I’ll do?”

“Constantly. Why her? What made you open to the idea?”

“Her husband is hiding something, and she is fairly reserved herself. There’s something broken there, between the two of them. I’m betting infidelity, but from which one of them, I’m not sure. Probably the husband.”

“Statistically more likely, Will.”

Will hummed his agreement, then shifted his stance so he was more fully in Hannibal’s space. “You know… I think I prefer it when you call me Doctor…”

“If that’s the case, then…” Hannibal smiled and raised the pitch of his voice ever so slightly. “Doctor, I’m afraid I’ve come down with something. I think I may require a full physical exam. Can you help me?”

Will couldn’t help but burst into laughter, enjoying the low rumble of Hannibal’s chuckle as he kissed him. “You’re a mess. A complete and utter mess, and I love you.”

“I love you as well, mylimasis.”

Will pressed his face into the side of Hannibal’s neck, inhaling the scent of him. “I’d still like you to take me to bed, even if you are a mess.”

Hannibal laughed again. “That I can most certainly do.”   
___________________________

Three days later, Will found himself walking up to a home that was almost as set back as his and Hannibal’s was. It was a sprawling house, all classic Cuban architecture with a well groomed lawn and two cars sitting in the driveway. When he knocked on the door, he was greeted by Mrs. Marsden.

“Dr. Jameson, thank you so much for coming all this way.”

“Oh, my pleasure, Ms. Marsden. It was no trouble.”

She lead him to a small sunroom with a closing door. It reminded him of the atrium at Port Haven Psychiatric Facility where he and Hannibal and even Freddie Lounds had sat and spoke with Abigail. The pain hit him sharply in the gut, an echo of the last time he had actually seen her and not just hallucinated her, but he tamped it down quickly.

“Can I offer you a drink? Some tea or water?”

“Some water would be lovely.”

A maid came in with a wave of Mrs. Marsden’s hand through the glass door to pour them both a drink, then leaves just as quietly as she entered, closing the door behind her.

“Where would you like to start?”

“Is it up to me?”

“Do you want it to be up to you?”

“I’ve just never done anything like this before. I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about we start with why you wanted to seek treatment.”

“Well, like my husband told you. Anxiety. Depression. I don’t have motivation for much these days, not like I used to.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Over the past year or so, I’ve really started to notice a difference.”

“What’s shifted? A year ago, what changed?”

She sat up straighter. Ah, Will thought. The thing she doesn’t want to think about.

“There haven’t been any shifts. That’s why I’m unsure of what to do.”

“Tell me about what an average day looks like for you.”

He let her talk, taking note of the way that all of her activities seemed to involve her husband, either with him or waiting for him or directed by him, and the way she grew more and more bitter as she outlined all the ways he was involved in her life. 

But through it all, she kept dancing around the truth of the matter.   
____________________

By the time Will arrived home, it was nearing dinner time. Hannibal stood in the kitchen prepping the salad that would accompany the roast he had in the oven.

“Good evening, Will. How was your first appointment?”

He kissed Hannibal then wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. “She’s hiding something.”

“Most people usually are.”

“Mmm… It smells delicious in here.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh! I got you something.”

Will went to his briefcase and pulled out the small, brown paper wrapped jar he had seen in a kitchen store. It was locally produced honey, something even Will knew Cuba was good for.

“Oh, Will, this is excellent. I picked up some figs, and this will go perfectly with them.”

Will leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. “I’m happy you approve.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: The knife play and blood that is mentioned in the tags is in this chapter. If that is something that you are uncomfortable with, you can stop reading after Will says “Come with me. Let me see if I can help make it clearer for you…” without missing anything.**
> 
> And now, domestic bliss and more possessive smut!

Doctor Jameson, good to see you again,” Mr. Marsden said as he opened the door to allow Will in for his standing appointment.

“It’s good to see you as well, Mr. Marsden. How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. How’s my wife doing?”

“Mr. Marsden-.”

“I know. Doctor/patient confidentiality,” he sighed. “I just worry. I’m sure you understand that.”

“I do, but still-.”

“You can’t. I understand. I am on my way out, but she’s waiting for you in the usual room.”

“Thank you.”

He had made some progress with Mrs. Marsden over their two months of weekly sessions. Will enjoyed teasing out the things she wasn’t saying, his empathy breaking down barriers she was so sure she had made impenetrable. He enjoyed it in a way he thought he wouldn’t, and reminded himself to thank Hannibal that evening for once again giving him something he didn’t know he wanted. 

Mrs. Marsden looked particularly distracted by the time he reached the little sun room.

“Good morning, Dr. Jameson. Thank you for coming again.”

“Of course, Mrs. Marsden.” He noted the way she flinched back slightly at the title. Interesting. “Where would you like to begin today?”

He waited while she gathered her thoughts, the silence stretching into minutes. 

“Have you ever thought you knew someone? Really knew someone? Then every notion you had was shaken- no, not shaken. _Decimated?”_

Will blinked. “Yes. Intimately.”

“Exactly! Intimacy. Knowing someone intimately, then suddenly… they’re a stranger.”

“Who decimated your trust, Mrs. Marsden?”

She was quiet for so long, Will thought he had overstepped. 

“Myself. I thought I knew myself, but I don’t really think I do.”

“What has you questioning yourself?”

“Jeremy. He’s cheating on me.”

“It’s natural to be upset-.”

“But that’s just it. I’m not upset. Or, rather, not as upset as I should be. I am… afraid of what it says about me that I am so unaffected.”

“What do you think it says about you?”

“That I’m heartless. That I’m cold. That there’s something broken or incapable of feeling things properly. Something like this… It should hurt, right?”

“Do you want it to hurt?”

“My husband tells me that I’ve shut down. That I’ve retreated to my own thoughts. He tells me he misses the way I used to be. He wants me to talk to him.” She paused to take a sip of water. “I don’t want to talk. I want to throw things. I want to smash the dishes and shatter the crystal. So… Yes. I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt him.”

“What’s stopping you from smashing the dishes?”

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Neither is infidelity,” Will countered, and watched as something snapped in her gaze. He nearly smiled.

“No, no it isn’t.”  
___________________

“So why haven’t you introduced us to this man of yours, Robert?” Benita asked the next time he stopped by the cafe. 

Will rubbed the back of his neck, an old nervous gesture. “He’s fairly introverted.”

“Oh, come on. Talk him into coming down for a coffee one of these mornings,” she replied.

“Better yet,” Tajo cut in, “Talk him onto the boat with us! We can have breakfast, catch some lunch. Make a day out of it.”

“I’ll ask him tonight, but no promises.”

He was looking forward to that conversation, buoyant on the idea that he had friends he wanted to introduce Hannibal to, knowing how tenuous it all was, wrapped up in the idea that Hannibal very well might say no. It wasn’t exactly his… caliber of socialization, after all.

But he decided to go for it, finding Hannibal in the kitchen preparing dinner and leaning against the island to watch as he worked. 

“How would you feel about coming fishing with me?”

Hannibal paused only briefly in his chopping. “I thought you enjoyed having that time with your friends by yourself?”

“I normally do, and I’m grateful for the space you allow me with that. Benita and Tajo are asking after you, though, and I would like you to get to know them. We would had out on the water, have breakfast on the boat and hopefully catch some fish for lunch. We usually cook our catches back at their house.”

“You… want to introduce me to your friends?”

There was something in Hannibal’s tone that made will pause. “Yes. Of course, of course I do. What makes you think I wouldn’t?”

“You are often concerned with the difference in our socioeconomic backgrounds. I was unsure if you would truly want me to intrude on a space where you can relax.”

Will sighed. “Oh, Hannibal. Of course I want you meet them. I love you. Why wouldn’t I want to share that happiness with my friends? They’ll be thrilled, even more so when they finally get to try your cooking. You’ll have to make something, not because they expect it, but because I want to show you off.”

“Of course, _mylimasis_. Anything for you.”  
______________________

“I broke the dishes,” Mrs. Marsden said to open their next session.

“And how did that make you feel?” Will asked.

“Violent. Powerful.” She sighed. “Empty.”

“Why empty?”

“Because it didn’t make me feel better?”

“Why do you think it didn’t help?”

“It wasn’t enough. I sat there, after, picking up the pieces of broken glass, wondering if I’d even feel it if a piece were to cut me. Then I realized I didn’t care.”

“What do you think it will take to get you to feel?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Jameson. I’m almost afraid to find out.”  
_______________________

A few days later, they found themselves walking up to the dock to meet Benita and Tajo. Hannibal had dressed down as much as he was capable of, wearing khakis and a light white cotton button up. Will looked scruffy next to him in ripped jeans and an old t-shirt, but then again, he was probably going to get messier than Hannibal. 

“So this is the mysterious Eric, hm?” Benita said in lieu of a greeting and smiled flirtatiously. “Well, let’s get a look at him then.” She walked a slow circle and stopped next to Will. “Oh, but he’s a handsome one, isn’t he?”

“Mm, I’ve always thought so, too.”

“Always?” Hannibal asked, and Will knew he was thinking of their earliest encounters.

“Yes, always.”

“My god, you two are sickening,” Tajo jokes. “Good to meet you, Eric. Let’s get going, shall we?”

They spend the morning on the boat, trawling for shellfish as well as casting lines. Hannibal mainly lounged with Benita, chatter flowing between the four of them comfortably. Will and Tajo had a standing arrangement that whoever didn’t catch the fish had to gut it. Will enjoyed watching Hannibal watch him as he worked on Tajo’s first catch. He spared a thought that their idea of foreplay was just about as strange as everything else about them combined.

“I caught another one!” Tajo said excitedly as he pulled his next catch on board.

“That’s fine. I’ve resigned myself to getting fairly bloody today.”

Hannibal’s smile sent shivers down his spine. 

When they eventually made it back to shore and on to Benita’s house, Hannibal was quickly snagged for kitchen duty. It amused Will to see him working shoulder to shoulder with Benita’s grandmother and aunts, falling easily into the role of sous chef as though he wasn’t the sort of man who could afford to buy a team of private chefs to work for him. 

“He’s a good man,” Tajo said from next to where Will was watching.

“He’s certainly good for me.”

The house was filled with people as it always was, people stopping in for quick bites or to say hello, some staying the whole afternoon. They sat around a large table in the backyard, drinking and eating and enjoying each other. 

“So what brought the two of you together?” Benita asked. 

“We met through work,” Will said. “Hit it off and, despite a few years and some ups and downs, we found our way back to one another.”

“Through work?” Tajo asked. “Was this a doctor/patient thing, then?”

“You can say that,” Hannibal said with a smile.

“No wonder you don’t have a permanent practice anymore, Robert! Terrible behavior, doctor.”

“Isn’t it just?” Will replied, eyes only for Hannibal. “We should be going though. Thank you so much for having us both.”

“Yes, thank you. This was a fantastic day. You have a beautiful home, and the food was delicious.”

“Oh, you’re too kind. Thank you both for coming, and don’t make it so long until the next visit, you hear me, Eric?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They drove home in relative silence, fingers twined together on the seat between them. 

“I really enjoyed myself today,” Hannibal said once they were home and settled. 

“Really?”

“Really. They are good people.”

“They really are.”

“Thank you. For inviting me. Watching you in your element was… refreshing, the way you handled yourself on the boat with such confidence.”

“I saw you watching me with the knife.”

Hannibal’s eyes dropped closed ever so slightly. “Yes, that was delightful. You have stead hands. It reminded me of the other times I’ve seen you draw blood.”

“It reminded me of the same. Having you there reminded me of the same.”

“You were glorious the night we killed the Dragon. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen something so beautiful.” Will felt himself flush at Hannibal’s words. Hannibal smiled softly. “I’m sorry I hadn’t told you that sooner.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so powerful.”

“You would do it again?”

“Yes. Does that surprise you?” Hannibal was quiet in response, and Will sighed. He ran his hand through Hannibal’s hair and cupped his cheek before he continued. “After all of this, everything, you still don’t believe my feelings for you are genuine.” 

It was a statement, not a question, but Hannibal finally spoke. “I am trying to reconcile getting everything I’ve ever dreamt of with the deep seated fear that it will once again be ripped away from me.”

Will kissed his forehead lightly. “Come with me. Let me see if I can help make it clearer for you…”

Will undressed Hannibal slowly, kissing every inch of skin as he exposed it. He could still taste the salt from the sea spray and smell the spices from their lunch on Hannibal’s skin. He motioned to the bed and smiled when Hannibal spread himself out there on his back, cock hard and leaking already. 

Will stripped his own clothes off, tossing them to the side with Hannibal’s on the floor. He trailed kisses up Hannibal’s entire body, starting at his ankles and bypassing his cock, nipping instead at the junction of his thigh. He reveled in the breath Hannibal let out, sharp and higher pitched, and used it as motivation to continue his path up Hannibal’s body and finally bringing their lips together. He controlled the kiss, keeping it softer, gentle, nothing betraying the plan that was already forming in his mind. 

He kissed along Hannibal’s jaw, biting at his throat lightly making a growl rumble up through Hannibal’s chest, before bringing his lips to Hannibal’s ear.

“Do you trust me?”

He felt the slight hitch of breath, the moment endless, before Hannibal released his breath in a sigh. “Yes.”

“And I you.” Will kissed him, deeper this time before pulling back and breathing his next words against Hannibal’s lips. “Don’t move.”

Will leaned over to pull a few items out of their bedside drawer. He popped the cap on the lubricant, distracting Hannibal from the other item he had pulled out. He coated his fingers in the lube, destroying Hannibal’s idea of what was about to happen by pushing two fingers into himself. Hannibal groaned but stayed still as Will had requested. He worked himself open slowly, building up to three fingers, making himself wet and open and finally, finally, settling himself above Hannibal’s cock and lowering slowly. 

He took a moment once he was fully seated to adjust to the feeling before rolling his hips. He kept his rhythm slow, enjoying Hannibal’s moans and hisses as Will moved, but keeping his hands to himself and not moving. 

Will leaned down and picked up the second item he had retrieved from their drawer, waiting for Hannibal’s eyes to drop closed before he pressed the button and the soft _snick_ of the switchblade opening made them shoot open again, pupils somehow infinitely blacker in the small ring of red around them.

Those same eyes traced Will’s hand as he brought the knife up to his own chest and drew a steady line, maybe 4 inches long, across his left pectoral. He closed his eyes at the sensation, the sharp-clear-too-much-not-enough fire of it, and when he opened them, Hannibal was gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles were white. Will felt the blood pool then start to run down his chest slowly, all the while rolling his hips. 

“Move.”

Will’s voice was broken, so close to coming and high with the pain, but Hannibal moved like lighting, rearing up and wrapping his arms around Will, grinding them ever closer together. He brought his mouth to Will’s chest, lapping at the blood that had spilled below the cut. He traced the wound itself with his tongue before he latched his mouth there and sucked at it. Will groaned loud and deep, hands clutched in Hannibal’s hair to hold him there, and he came untouched like that. 

Hannibal rocked into him through it before he flipped them both over and drove harder into Will. Already oversensitive, Will was distracted and missed Hannibal reaching for the knife himself. The small hiss had Will opening eyes he hadn’t realized he had closed, and he saw the matching mark Hannibal had made on himself. He didn’t wait for permission, merely pulled Hannibal down so he could return the same process, licking and sucking at the wound until Hannibal’s rhythm faltered and he stilled inside of Will with a heavy sigh. Inside each other in all the ways that mattered to them, sated at last.

Their kiss was coppery, flavors mingling into something better than what they had been before, and even Hannibal found it impossible to mind that their bedding was ruined.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, y'all. How is this chapter 10 already? One more chapter after this, then a brief epilogue, and this story is wrapped! 
> 
> This chapter begins to tie up the loose ends and set the scene for the final chapter. Enjoy!

“How are you today, Mrs. Marsden?”

“I slept with someone who is not my husband.”

Will paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “Did that help you feel something?”

“For a little while. Jeremy didn’t even say anything when I told him. There wasn’t even an acknowledgement.”

“What felt worse? Sleeping with someone you had no emotional attachment to or Jeremy’s lack of reaction?”

“His lack of reaction,” she replied without hesitation. 

“And how does _that_ make you feel?”

“I am sick of feeling like my worth is so dependent on him. He _hurt_ me. Why should I care what he thinks?”

“So, it’s started to hurt, has it? Or is the absence of emotion what is causing you to ache?”

“I-I don’t know. I…-.” She stood and began to pace. “I just want it to stop.”

“How do you propose making it stop?”

“There’s really only way isn’t there?”

“What way is that?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“I think it would be good if you did. Saying something out loud gives true life to it.”

She paused, seemingly gathering herself, before she spoke again. “I have to get rid of him.”  
___________

“She said she has to ‘get rid of him,’ Hannibal,” Will said as they worked in the kitchen that night to prepare dinner. “Not divorce him. Not leave him. ‘Get rid of him.’”

“And that’s without any psychic driving on your part?”

“None. Just legitimizing her emotions and pushing her to look past whatever preconceived notions she has about propriety to find her own solution.”

“That’s fascinating.”

“I agree. I am… thrilled to see where this goes.” He hesitated before continuing. “It… helps me to understand some of why you did what you did.”

“Does it?”

“I think so, yes. It doesn’t take much to push people in the direction you want them to go. Or, in the case of Mrs. Marsden, to give them enough rope to hang themselves with.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

Will licked his lips, watching as Hannibal watched and mimicked the movement. “It makes me feel powerful.”

“Precisely.”  
_____________________

The following week, Will knocked on the Marsden’s door for a second time. IT was unusual for there to be this of of a wait. Usually, Jeremy answered, but if he was out, one of their staff would let him in. Both cars were in the drive way, so there shouldn’t have been any delay. Will felt his adrenaline spike before he knocked a third time, then decided to break in.

He pulled out the handkerchief from his pocket and was about to break the window when he heard the unmistakable sound of high heels on tiled flooring.

Mrs. Marsden opened the door in a long, flowing silk robe and the heels Will had heard. It was such a difference to what he normally saw her in that he blinked. 

“Hello, Dr. Jameson. I was… busy. Would you like to come in?”

“We had an appointment this morning, or am I mistaken?”

“No, no, you were right. I just took longer than I thought.”

He smelled the blood before they stepped into the study. Jeremy was in his desk chair, head back, eyes open, shirt soaked through with fresh blood.

“Not going to say anything, Doctor?”

“I’m curious, Melissa… Did this make you feel something? Or are you still empty?”

She laughed. “No, no. Far from empty.”

She cocked the gun and Will moved, grappling with her for the weapon. He winced when a shot went off, making his ears ring, but it made him move more urgently. He pushed her back with more force, catching her off guard and tipping her off balance. She fell back into the armchair behind her, and in her confusion, Will managed to bring her hands and the gun up to her temple before fitting his finger over her and pulling the trigger, painting the bookshelf behind her with blood.

Will let her arm drop then dug through his briefcase to find their failsafe. It was an emergency cellphone only to be used in the event that one or the other of them was in a situation that could threaten them both, which was why Will wasn’t the least bit surprised when Hannibal answered the phone immediately and without greeting him.

“What happened?”

“Mrs. Henderson murdered her husband, then tried to kill me, and… well… it looks like she killed herself as well. Debating pros and cons between calling the police and being found covered in her blood or me having you getting a change of clothes for me.”

“Go with the first. You have a set appointment time. It would be more suspicious if you were delayed.”

“My thoughts exactly, I just didn’t want it to be a unilateral decision. Be prepared for some police presence.”

“Thank you, Will.”

“Of course. Keep you posted.”

When the police arrived, he had worked himself into a suitably realistic state of grief and panic, playing the horror stricken therapist well enough to fool the police. He explained how Mr. Marsden had cheated and how he was working with Mrs. Marsden on it during their therapy sessions. He told them she had alluded to leaving him, to make her own way, that maybe that would help her. No, no she hadn’t expressed any suicidal behavior and, dear god, how could this have happened? He had tried so hard to stop her!

The performance was exhausting, and by the time he made it back home, it was well past dinner. Hannibal greeted him at the door with a glass of whiskey.

“Busy day for you.”

“It really has been. I hadn’t expected her to crack so quickly. What a shame,” he said before he drained his glass. “I also wasn’t expecting her to try to kill me as well. That was… uncomfortable.”

“Ah, yes,” Hannibal said, levity in his voice. “Patients trying to kill their psychiatrists. Novel, really.”

Will laughed. “You were impressed.”

Hannibal licked his lips. “Among other things.”

“Yes, among other things. We had a strange courting, you and I.”

“I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“You know what?” Will said as he wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s waist and tucked his head under his chin, a mimic of all those years ago in Hannibal’s kitchen, linoleum knife and all. “I wouldn’t either.”  
_______________________

A few weeks passed before they ventured out of their bubble again, to the theater again. They managed to avoid socializing before the first act, but intermission wasn’t so lucky. The circles they had flittered around at their previous excursions were filled with sympathy, shock, and an unhealthy desire for gossip, making Will the center of a lot of their focus. He escaped down the hallway with the bathroom in it for some peace.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think I would be seeing you again, Robert.”

Will pulled himself together before turning to face the intruder on his personal space. “Ah, Mr. Marcus. Are you enjoying the show so far?”

“I am, yes. Are we no longer on a first name basis?”

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are.”

“Shame. Is that yours or your not husband’s opinion?” He raised his voice to normal conversational tones. “Ah, Mr. Pavlis. A pleasure.”

“Mr. Marus,” Hannibal said, and handed Will a glass of wine before looping an arm around his waist. “A patron of all the arts.”

“As often as I can be. I have a fondness for beautiful things,” Christopher said with a shift of his eyes over Will’s body.

Will felt Hannibal’s grip on him tighten. “I am very much of the same mindset. We must be getting back to our seats. If you’ll excuse us.”

They were silent on their walk back to their box, Hannibal’s fingers still digging, almost bruisingly into his hip. It sent a thrill through him. He was reminded of all the times he had slammed back against those who wanted to claim him, to study him, to mark him as theirs in some way. He could barely stand saying his vows or wearing his ring, the weight of the declarations and commitment. Too many legalities. Too much transference of autonomy.

But with Hannibal, the one person that should truly bring out those feelings in him, they were non-existent. He knew why Hannibal was possessive, knew the trauma of having someone you love taken from you. It was natural to hold tight to the things that you want to keep after losing so much. 

Will just couldn’t understand why it was him that Hannibal wanted.

Objectively, he knew it was the fact that he saw Hannibal, not just presumed to know him, not just humored him, but saw. There was no need for masks between them. The person suits they wore had long been tucked into the closet with the rest of their skeletons. It was the two of them against the world. 

Anything and every.

Always. 

Will sighed as they sat down, mind made up. “You know, I really loved living here.”

Hannibal turned to look at him, and Will could see the fear of rejection lurking behind his eyes. “Something you would like to say?”

Will wove their fingers together. “I think we should invite Mr. Marcus over for dinner.”

Hannibal’s entire demeanor shifted, relaxing and coming alert all at once, pupils blowing his eyes black as soon as the words processed. “I love you.”

“I know.”

They found Christopher on their way out, and Hannibal spoke first.

“Professor Marcus,” Hannibal said, getting Christopher’s attention before he could walk out. 

“Yes, Mr. Pavlis? What can I help you with?”

“I have been informed,” Hannibal started with a glance at Will, “That I may have been too harsh in our interactions and should not jump to conclusions. It was terribly rude of me, and I apologize for my actions. As a way to make it up to you, we would like to invite you over for dinner.”

Christopher looked between Hannibal and Will. Will did his best to smile at the man, letting flirtation slip out into his expression, and saw the effect immediately.

“Yes. Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Fantastic. Next Thursday, say… 7:00 at our home?”

“That works well for me.”

“Perfect,” Will said. “Eric is an excellent cook. I’m certain he will find some good recipes for you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the final chapter! Keep an eye out tomorrow night for the epilogue. 
> 
> Also, uh, graphic depictions of violence is there for a reason. On the same level as the show, but you know, just putting it out there.

The morning started out like any other. Will woke up and went for a run, stopping in to see Benita and Tajo as he usually did. He showered when he got home, then sat with Hannibal in the kitchen to eat breakfast. He did the dishes while Hannibal did one final passthrough of the house to make sure that everything they wanted to take with them was either already on the boat or packed and easily grabbed. They had slowly moved most of their essentials out of the house already, so all that was left were two duffle bags and two changes of clothes for that evening. 

They had one last round of slow, easy sex on the terrace, the sun beating down on Will’s back while he rolled his hips above Hannibal.

At 7:00 on the dot, the doorbell rang. Will left Hannibal in the kitchen, finishing up the preparations for dinner, while he went to answer it.

“Hello, Christopher. Welcome to our home. Can I take your jacket?”

“Yes, thank you. I brought a bottle of wine. I was hoping red would be a good fit.”

“Perfect, thank you. We already have a bottle open for dinner, but we can certainly have this for dessert. The dining room is just through here.”

They walk through the kitchen and into the dining room where Hannibal is bringing the starters to their place settings. 

“Hello, Eric. How are you?”

“Hello, Mr. Marc- Christopher, my apologies. Did you have an easy time getting here?”

“Yes, quite. You’re fairly set back from everything. It’s really nice.”

“It’s part of what appealed to us when we were looking.”

“When Eric was looking,” Will joked. “I didn’t care where we landed, so long as I had room to sprawl out.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“5 years now? Going on 6?”

“Give or take. Seems like it’s been always.”

“He’s a sap,” Will says to Christopher, enjoying the mild look of irritation. 

“You’re not any better,” Hannibal replied.

The meal passed by quickly, the conversation fake but flowing, and when it comes time to get dessert ready, Will asks Christopher into the kitchen with him to help. As Will stepped up to the counter, he felt Christopher walk up too close behind him.

“I feel as though we keep ending up alone together, Robert.”

Will laughed, playing into the charade. “It certainly seems that way.”

“Almost… by design, I would say.”

“Or just circumstance,” Will replied easily as he handed Christopher the corkscrew to open the second bottle of wine.

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“I would apologize, but I’m not even remotely sorry.”

Christopher stepped even closer. “Do you enjoy being a tease? Or do you really not notice what you’re doing?”

Will turned so his back was against the counter and he could face Christopher. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“I knew you were flirting with me.”

“Was I?” 

Christopher crowded into his space. “You’re incorrigible. Coming onto me while your boyfriend is in the next room. Isn’t that a turn off? Or are you just gagging for it?”

“He’s not.”

“What?” Christopher asked, still distracted.

“He’s not in the next room.”

It took Christopher two seconds too long to understand that Will’s smile was lethal not lascivious, and by then, Hannibal had already plunged the needle into his neck. The wine bottle shattered on the floor, and Christopher dropped as well. The drug was a paralytic, keeping him lucid but unable to feel. It was much like what Cordell used on Will for the botched face transplant on Muskrat Farm a million years ago.

“I really shouldn’t find your possessiveness as sexy as I do,” Will said.

“Probably not, but you will never hear any complaints from me.”

“Shall we move him?”

They had set up a table in the laundry room for them to work. They worked well together, getting him stripped and onto the table. It was hard work with Christopher being physically unresponsive, life only betrayed by the heaving of his chest. 

“Where would you like to begin?” Hannibal asked. “This was your idea.”

“I thought I would defer to your good judgement, Doctor.”

Hannibal smiled. “I actually bought you a gift. Just something to mark the occasion with."

He reached up onto the top shelf above the washing machine and pulled down a small box. When Will opened the lid, he couldn’t help but return the fierce look on Hannibal’s face. It was a black bladed knife, the handle perfect for Will’s hand, and nestled next to it was a small scalpel.

“Oh. They’re beautiful. Thank you, Hannibal.”

A low whine reverberated from Christopher’s chest from his spot on the table.

“Do you think he just realized who we were?”

“I certainly hope so, _mylimasis._ Shall we begin?”

With Hannibal guiding him, Will began dismantling Christopher, switching to the scalpel for the finer details. He passed the various parts to Hannibal, who broke them down and packaged them for transport to the boat. They certainly wouldn’t need to worry about stocking up on fresh meat, and the rest of their food stores already on the boat. They worked in tandem, keeping Christopher alive until the very last by working from his extremities inward. 

They moved what was left of his body, mostly just his hollowed out torso, back into the dining room. They sat his head on the plate in front of him, staring at the open chasm where Christopher’s heart once was. In its place, they fit the pieces of broken wine bottle before draping his shirt and coat over what was left of his shoulders. They cleaned the bones from his arms and legs and added them to the flower arrangement in the middle of the table, completing the design.

Will knew they weren’t as clean as Hannibal normally kept his kills— the laundry room was a mess, and they both had blood soaked through their shirts. Will almost lamented the loss of the suit, then chuckled out loud at the thought.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more curious as to why someone is laughing,” Hannibal asked.

“I was just thinking that I really liked this outfit and what a shame it is that we’ll have to burn it. Then how ridiculous that is, me, sad over a suit—. And why do I feel like you’ve stopped listening to me?”

Hannibal had stalked closer to him as he spoke until he was close enough that they were almost touching. Some part of Will knew he should be afraid, but he realized that he was no longer prey. He had his own claws, his teeth were sharpened. He was powerful and not even Hannibal could take that from him. 

There were two sets of hoofbeats when they entered a room together now. 

“I’d quite like it if you stripped, Will.” Hannibal said it in a way that was more command than suggestion, and Will felt himself bristle at it.

“Hmm… No. No, I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

When they came together, it was vicious. Teeth clacking in their kiss, biting at each others’ lips. Will grabbed a fistful of Hannibal’s hair, grabbing a bloody handful of his shirt with his other. Will felt the exact moment that Hannibal gave way, the moment the tide shifted and Will took control of the situation. They pulled at each others’ clothes, stripping off right in the laundry room. 

“If you want me to stop, Hannibal, this is your last chance to tell me.”

“Anything and everything. Always.”

They went down to the ground together, Hannibal on his back on the bloody floor. Will shoved two fingers into Hannibal’s mouth, groaning when Hannibal’s tongue lapped at them. He spared a wish for lubricant, but the growling thing in his chest was almost grateful it would be rougher. 

“Yes, Will, please…”

That was all the encouragement Will needed before he breached Hannibal with both his spit slicked fingers, swallowing the hiss of breath with another biting kiss. The prep was quick, not nearly enough, and when Will finally pushed inside of Hannibal, it was hot and tight and almost too much too soon. 

“ _Please, Will._ ”

Will answered with a growl and began to thrust. He swatted Hannibal’s hand away when he went to reach for his cock. 

“No. You’ll come like this, Hannibal. For me.”

He hooked his arm under Hannibal’s left leg, adjusting their positions slightly, and the effect was almost instant. Hannibal’s breathy moans became louder, Will picked up the pace, close himself. He felt Hannibal start to contract around him, orgasm imminent. Will leaned down and sank his teeth into the muscle on Hannibal’s chest. The copper hit his tongue as Hannibal came with a gasp. Will fucked him through it, lapping at the blood pooling in the hollow of Hannibal’s throat, before rearing up and thrusting harder, faster, until he finally fell over the edge himself.   
_____________________

By the time the sun rose, the city was just a blur on the horizon behind them. Will felt a pang of sadness as he watched it slip away. For Benita. For Tajo. For the place where he and Hannibal had settled into themselves as a couple. 

He would hold that house in his heart always.

“We had to leave,” Hannibal said from behind him. “For us to be safe, we had to leave.”

“I know. No home, no friends, none of that is worth putting this-“ he gestured between them both, “- at risk. I can mourn what was while looking forward to what will be.”

“I understand that, _mylimasis._ ”

Will looked at Hannibal then, put together, hair blowing in the sea breeze, far longer than Will had ever seen it before. His shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal the edges of the bite mark Will had left on him just hours before. The sigh of it made something deep in him purr contentedly.

“I love you,” he said.

“And I love you, Will,” Hannibal replied. “I was thinking…” He cut off, hesitant, making Will’s nerves jangle.

“What is it?”

“Norway… They legalized same sex marriage a few years ago.”

Will’s heart leapt to his throat. “Have they now?”

“Will…” Hannibal cut off again.

“Yes? Is there something you wanted to ask me?” 

Will needed the words, needed to hear them spoken and freely given, couldn’t breathe with the desire that shot through him at the thought.

“You devilish boy,” Hannibal said with a shake of his head. He cupped Will’s face in his palm, brushing his thumb over the scar on Will’s cheek. “Will you marry me, Mr. Graham?”

“Yes, Dr. Lecter. Yes, I will.”


	12. Epilogue

When Jack stepped onto the tarmac, he was greeted with a firm handshake by a tall, broad shouldered man in a jacket embroidered with PNR. 

“Miguel Santo, police chief for Havana proper. We’re told these two are yours?”

“Unfortunately,” Jack replied. “We thought they were dead.”

Miguel sized him up. “Did you really?”

“No… No I didn’t, but the evidence was there to say they were.”

“Looks like the evidence was wrong.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“You’ll want to brace yourself. It’s pretty rough in there.”

The house, so pristine from the outside, was swarming with flies. It was easy to see the path of destruction— the wine in the kitchen, the blood in the laundry room, the head on the plate in the dining room. The blood was smudged on the laundry room floor, markings distinct and unmistakable, and all Jack could think was Freddie Lounds was right. Murder Husbands after all.

“Who could find this a turn on?” the sergeant on site asked. 

“You’ve never met these two. Jack Crawford,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Sebastián Aquino. So these two are your problem?”

“They’re my fault.”

“Excuse me, Sir,” an officer interrupted them, pulling Sebastián to the side, who returned a moment later looking even more grim.

“Agent Crawford, there’s something you should see.”

Jack’s blood ran cold at the sight of the handwritten letter enclosed in the evidence bag. He had seen this parchment before, read this calligraphy…

_Dear Uncle Jack,_

_I’m sorry you have missed our latest dinner reservations. We look forward to having you at our table the next time around._

_All our best,_

_H & W _

“God damn,” Miguel whispered.

Jack closed his eyes. “God has nothing to do with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! My first piece of Hannibal fan fiction. Please let me know what you think, and keep an eye out for more of my work coming your way. 
> 
> You can also follow me on Tumblr at[xstarxchaserx](http://xstarxchaserx.tumblr.com).


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